Where the Wayward Tread
by DwellInDreams1019
Summary: Currently on season 2. My brothers Sam, Dean and I have been reunited for a year now and things keep getting weirder for us. Sam's psychic powers and my...whatever the hell it is powers are growing stronger and tracking Yellow Eyes is becoming more difficult. I may not know what the hell I am...but I do know that we're gonna kill this demon. Sisfic. Jo/OC. Gabriel/OC. Kinda Destiel
1. The Beginning

**First off, I am so sorry for this. I know, this has been SO overdone and I just know I'm being so amazingly original. But, this character popped into my mind when I finished watching the show back in January, and she's managed to become one of my most prized characters. I just couldn't resist. Whoops!**

**SO, this is my Winchester sis fic adaption and I'm truly hoping you guys take an interest to it; and I hope it's a bit of a twist from the norm. I do have some warnings though before you guys start reading this. Cause the way I'm gonna write this unfortunately may not be everyone's cup of tea and I don't wanna be getting complaints later. If you don't like, don't read. But it's my story :)**

**WARNINGS:**** 1) Rated for language-they're the Winchesters so, of course, lotsa swearing involved. 2) Destiel is my #1 OTP, and while I'm sticking like 98.6% canon, this will hint at Destiel strongly. Just saying. 3 and probably most important) Lucy is not straight. Hopefully, this shouldn't be a problem for most of you. I'm mostly warning because I have her set up in some sort of relationship with three main supporting characters. Two of which are female, one of which is male. And hint hint, none of them are Charlie, haha.**

**So, like I said. If you don't like, don't read. But I don't want to get complaints with the way I'm writing my character. But for those who are sticking with me, I really hope you like this; I tried to make it as interesting as possible :)**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

**Chapter 1  
****The Beginning**

~o~

Lucy Winchester had witnessed far too much death and destruction for her 19 years. Her mother had died tragically when she was only one day old, leaving her father broken. As much as she loved her father, being raised by him alone wasn't much of a childhood. She and her two older brothers, Sam and Dean, moved constantly due to their father's job. If she was lucky, she'd make maybe one friend—but that wouldn't last. It never did. In the end, her brothers were her only true friends—which is honestly very depressing.

Lucy's father's job was unique. Most wouldn't have believed it if they had just heard and not seen it being done. Her father was a hunter; and not as in deer and game. A hunter of the supernatural. That's right, supernatural. Ghosts, demons, spirits, witches—all that good stuff. Lucy had been raised, since age 5, seeing these monsters and she had been trained to kill them as well.

Her father and her brothers were her rock; the only three people she loved and cared about. That's why it hurt so much when Sam left. In her 15 year old eyes, he had abandoned them—abandoned her. And for what? To go off to some fancy school where he could do what he's always wanted to do? So he could get away from his family, the three people that should have mattered most to him? That was how she and Dean saw it. She thinks her father saw it that way too.

So it had been only she, her father and Dean for nearly four years. Oddly, she enjoyed hunting. It made her feel like a hero. Like her existence could make a difference in the world. Her heart might have gotten a bit colder with each year of her life, and each kill she made. But that was a bonus to her job right? Deaths had to be expected. They were unavoidable. The most important thing was to prevent any more of them from happening; she lived for that honor.

Now at 19, she had been on many hunts with Dean and their father. At first it had been despite their protests, considering she was the youngest and the one her family was most eager to protect. But with her age, she also gained experience, and was soon willingly accepted into the dangerous hunts. However, her dad was more of an independent (and stubborn) hunter. He had a tendency to go off on hunts by himself, excluding her and Dean—as he had done with his most recent hunt. And thus where the story begins.

* * *

I sat on the edge of my temporary bed in a cheap motel somewhere in Nevada. I picked at the hem of my old jacket as I scrolled on my phone, attempting to pick up clues as to what my dad had been hunting. He had been gone for about two weeks now. Normally he would have called Dean or me by now, but we had heard absolutely nothing from him, and we were starting to worry. We knew our dad could handle himself, but two weeks was far too long.

I tore my eyes away from my phone as my brother walked into the hotel room, looking disgruntled and frustrated. "Any luck?" I asked, tucking a strand of my long blonde hair behind my ear. Dean sighed, throwing bag which I knew contained different weapons on the table.

"None," Dean replied. "Two weeks, no sign except for that voicemail. He's gone."

"I just don't understand. Why hasn't he called? What if he got hurt or something?" I said, gnawing on my bottom lip. My brother nodded silently.

"I know, Luce, I know." He grabbed two beers out of a pack from the fridge, opening one for himself and tossing one to me. "That's why we're going to look for him. I say we leave within the hour, take a little road trip to California, and start out there."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why California?"

"I figured maybe we can pay Sammy a little visit. Who knows, maybe he'll help us look," Dean said, sipping his beer. I frowned, shaking my head.

"Sam doesn't want anything to do with us, Dean. Remember?" I said, my voice melancholy. "He gave us up a long time ago."

"But blood's still thicker than water," Dean countered. "No matter what's happened in the past, he's not gonna bail out on us when one of us might be hurt. He's not that much of a heartless dick. Even if it's just for a while, he'll come with us."

I smiled bitterly. "And then he'll leave us again." Dean couldn't reply, and instead just shrugged. "Okay, I guess it's worth a shot. As long as we find Dad."

An hour later, we were heading out into the parking lot to Dean's precious '67 Impala. It had previously belonged to our father, and was eventually passed along to Dean. Dean considered the car a part of the family, and loved it like his own child. I adored the car as well, as it contained many of my family's fondest memories. But I wasn't too fond of spending hours on end cramped up in the passenger seat, which actually took up a lot of my time.

Dean and I passed the first Stanford University sign at around one in the morning, and twenty minutes later we pulled into the student apartment buildings. I raised my eyebrows at my oldest brother skeptically. "We haven't seen him in four years, and you're just going to break into his house at one thirty in the morning?" I questioned.

"Got any better plans?" he retorted. I sighed.

"You go in, I'll wait out here."

I watched as my brother picked the front door lock and entered the house. I waited, often checking my surrounds impatiently. You could never be too careful; especially knowing what lurks in the dark and the shadows of the night. Ten minutes later, two figures emerged from the house. I couldn't help the small smile that formed on my face.

Sammy had grown taller, if that was possible. He looked good. Strong, independent…happy. The opposite of me and Dean. When Sam noticed me, I smirked at the look of surprise that crossed my other brother's face.

"Lucy?" Sam said, attempting a grin at me.

"Hi Sammy," I greeted quietly, my grudge temporarily gone.

"Jesus, you've grown up."

My smirk turned sarcastic. "Funny what four years can do huh?" The slightest expression of guilt on Sam's face sparked some sort of satisfaction in me. I knew that was wrong, and mean, but I couldn't avoid the feeling. I loved my brother—so much—but he had, in his own way, betrayed us.

I barely listened as Dean explained to Sam what our father had gone after and fidgeted with a small unloaded gun, twirling it around in my hands. Dean played Sam our father's voicemail, significant because it contained an EVP—one that said "I can never go home".

"Sounds like some creepy spirit to me—maybe a vengeful one," I commented, taking the recorder from my brother. Dean nodded.

"At least that's what we're thinking," he said. Sam bit his lip and silently agreed. With no other response, Dean continued, "You know, in almost four years, we've never bothered you, never asked for anything."

"We could really use you out there, Sammy," I spoke softly. Sam sighed, and for a moment—just a short moment, I was almost positive that he was going to decline. And I and Dean would be on our own once again.

Finally, Sam turned back to us and nodded. "All right, I'll go. I'll help you find Dad. But I have to get back first thing Monday, okay?"

My eyebrow rose. "Why first thing Monday?"

Sam paused before replying. "I have an interview."

"Like a job interview? Skip it," Dean said. Sam put on one of his famous bitchfaces that I was so used to seeing.

"No, it's a law school interview. My entire future on a plate," he shot back. Dean and I exchanged a puzzled look.

"Wait, seriously?" I questioned, astonished. I briefly recalled Sam telling me something like that a long time ago. His hopes and dreams to maybe break free of our unusual life and do something boring like become a lawyer or a police officer. I never thought he'd follow through with it.

"Yes, seriously, Luce," Sam said, stopping me from challenging him again. "We have a deal?" Neither I nor Dean answered, and Sam retreated back into his house to give a goodbye to his girlfriend.

I scoffed, shaking my head as soon as Sam was out of hearing range. "I can't believe this."

"Sammy the Lawyer. Never thought I'd hear that," my brother added, also shaking his head. However, he had a small smile.

I was solemn, as usual. "Told ya he's gonna leave us. As soon as this is all over, he's racing back here to become some fancy douche law official." Dean wrapped an arm around my shoulders, kissing me on the temple.

"Look, I know you miss him. Hell, I miss him too. But let's be honest here, I really wasn't expecting much. I'm just glad as hell he's coming with us this time." I shrugged, leaning into my brother.

"I just want him back for good," I whispered, looking into my brother's identical green eyes. Dean didn't reply. The front door opened and Sam shuffled out of his house carrying a small duffel bag. Just enough for a few nights. "Right, I'm taking a nap. Wake me when you need me."

I slid into the backseat of the Impala and put headphones in my ears. I closed my eyes and let the music of Coldplay wash over me. I fell asleep as the Impala sped off into the darkness, quietly content that the three of us were once again together.

~o~

I was startled awake when Dean had yanked the headphone from my ear. My eyes met the glaring morning sun and I was forced to squint as I sat up. "Wakey wakey eggs and bakey," I heard Dean's over enthusiastic voice say, rather close to my ear.

"I hate you," I mumbled, which came out as an incoherent grumble.

"You fill up the tank, I'll get you coffee, deal?" my brother said, handing me a card. Grudgingly, I nodded and slid out of the Impala with the motivation of coffee. As I began to fill the car with gas, I saw Sam in the passenger seat, flicking through old music tapes that had belong to our dad. I half smiled as Sam scoffed at each choice.

"So, Dean still hasn't grown out of the 70's, has he?" Sam asked me, a slight teasing tone in his voice. I smiled back with a slight shake of my head.

"You mean all the glam rock with big hair?" I snorted. "Not a chance. I _swear_ if he makes me listen to that damn ACDC album _one more time_…" My brother and I shared a laugh. It almost brought me back to the old times. All four of us together again—laughing as we listened to those bands I despised while we shot off down the road to our next destination.

Sam's smile dropped slightly as he met my sad eyes. "I still can't believe how grown up you are. I mean—I'm not trying to sound like a proud parent on graduation day but—wow. You've grown up so much."

I kept my smile and my brother's gaze. "Is that good or bad?" Sam paused.

"Still trying to decide I guess."

When Dean returned, I gratefully snatched my cup of coffee (black with Irish crème—Dean knew exactly how I drank my caffeine) and stashed the bags with our 'breakfast' in the middle seat to be snacked on along the way. I placed myself in the middle backseat, leaning forward enough to be able to hear my brothers and rest my chin on the front seat.

"I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection," Sam started, and when Dean questioned him, he replied, "Well for one, they're cassette tapes. And two, it's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

I snorted, prompting Dean to swivel around to glare at me. "Taking his side now?"

"Dean, I've literally been telling you the same thing for 6 years," I shot back, my lips raised in a mocking half smile.

"Huh, well. House rules my dear Sammy and Lucy Bean. Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts their cake hole," Dean retorted, popping in one of the tapes. I made a point to groan and roll my eyes when the loud rock music started blaring through the speakers.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam okay?" Sam called over the music.

"Sorry can't hear you, music's too loud."

"Yeah, not changing our mind about that Sammy," I added. I squeezed my brother's shoulder. "Enjoy the ride."

~o~

It seems like we had just gotten into the town of Jericho when we spotted police cars gathered on a bridge. A crime scene of some sort. Suspicious, to say the least. Dean dug out three fake IDs and the three of us strode up together to the crime scene. We of course took some time to listen in on the cops' conversation and the evidence they had retained so far. We knew that this was possibly what our dad wanted us to find.

When Dean broke into their conversation, the police examined us closely. "And who are you?" In a quick motion, Dean and I flashed our IDs.

"Federal Marshalls," I answered him. "We were told about the evidence here."

"You three are a little young to be Federal Marshalls aren't you?" said the deputy.

Dean laughed it off. "Thanks. That's awfully kind of you. So there's been others like this correct?"

From the interrogation with the cops, we learned that basically nothing was known about the case. I wasn't too keen on trusting cops. My family and I were practically felons, with our fake IDs and cards and unfailing ability to get in trouble. And you know what? At the end of the day, we still did our job better than the cops.

It wasn't until after we had talked to the victim's girlfriend when we started to put the pieces together. She and her friend had told us about a local legend. It seemed to fit, and it definitely was in our division. By research, we had discovered a woman named Constance Welsh, all leading up to my original theory of it indeed being the work of a vengeful spirit or a ghost.

I had almost forgotten what it was like to be around both Sam and Dean at the same time. They loved each other, yes, that was absolutely true. But my brothers were known to fight. A lot. And every single time I was the one to break it up. Even when I was younger I had been yelling at my older brothers to "shut it or I'll shut it for you".

We had made some progress on locating Dad, as we had found an old motel room in which he had stayed in, along with his journal he had left behind. He was on the same case, and he, like Sam, had figured it out as well. In his journal, he left us coordinates. We were one step closer to finding him.

As usual, we Winchesters solved the case. I wasn't ashamed to admit—we were damn good hunters. Now we drove through the night, viewing the maps and information our father had given us with his journal. "Okay, this is where Dad went," Sam stated, pointing to a black dot he made. "Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

"Ooooh sounds haunting. Where is it?" I asked, peering over Sam's shoulder.

"About 600 miles away from here."

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning," Dean said. I frowned at my brother, sparing a quick glance towards Sam.

"Dean. Sam's interview. Tomorrow's Monday morning," I reminded him, biting my bottom lip.

"Yeah, guys, I just…" Sam began.

"Sam, don't. We get it," I responded. However, my voice was laced with disappointment and my green eyes turned melancholy once more.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll take you home," my oldest brother stated in a similar tone. Sam nodded, his expression portraying guilt, but sticking firm to his word. We drove on in silence for a while after that, with really nothing more to say to each other.

"Shit, Luce!" Dean barked suddenly. Both Sam and I jumped at the sudden sound. "Goddamnit I can't believe I forgot! _Shit_!"

"_What_?" I exclaimed, suddenly startled.

"Your birthday," Dean replied. "It was yesterday. Like, man, I know you've been saying you're 19 for a month now but now you really are and _shit_, Luce, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, shit Lucy I forgot too," Sam said, exasperation now in his voice. I raised both of my brows—and started to laugh.

"Guys…it's fine. I really don't care," I replied, giggles falling from my lips. When my brothers started to argue, I cut them off quickly. "Seriously guys, it doesn't matter. So I'm 19-for-real. Big whoop. I don't give a shit. Plus, I won't actually get what I want for it anyway so—don't worry about it, okay?"

My brothers dropped it at that, with only a minor fight still left. In all honesty, I had completely forgotten as well. Shows how much I actually care about my age. On cases, it seems like the time tends to fly by. Oh, and we managed to save a few people so, in the end, did it really matter anyway? The only other thing I could ask for was to have all my family with me; together and safe. Sam would give up school and maybe he'd bring Jess along on our travels. Dad would be with us. Mom would still be alive. That's all I wanted—my family.

~o~

I felt an ache in my chest when we pulled up to Sam's apartment building. This was it. Who knows how long it would be until I saw my brother again? I watch sadly as Sam climbed out of the Impala, grabbing his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Maybe we can meet up later, alright?" he offered, trying to ease the mood with a small smile. I managed one back. Dean could only nod in agreement.

"Hey Sam?" Dean said just as Sam began to walk towards his apartment. "We made one hell of a team back there." Sam sadly agreed. On a last minute move, I stumbled out of the Impala. I ran up to my much taller brother, throwing my arms around his neck tightly. He wrapped his arms around my smaller frame and I felt him grin against my shoulder.

"Bye Sammy, I love you," I said.

"Goodbye Luce, I love you too. Don't forget it." I chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah. Dork."

I pulled away reluctantly and let my brother return to his apartment and to what was his life now. I got back into the car, exchanging a gloomy look with Dean. He grabbed my hand lightly and squeezed, giving me temporary comfort. And with that, we drove away.

~o~

Or so we thought.

Dean and I hadn't been driving for more than a minute when I noticed the smoke pooling around Sam's house. "Oh my god," I whispered. And suddenly I was yelling. "Dean, go back now!"

Everything was a blur to me. We're running into Sam's apartment. I see the flames engulfing everything around me. Jess is the source of the flames, burning on the ceiling—just like my mother. Sam is shouting as I and Dean tear him away from the danger. I latch onto him once we're all out, trying desperately to calm him down. I'm still holding him tight as he cries for Jess, and the fire engines approach.

Eventually, Sam's screams resided. I helped him stand and together we walked to the Impala. Dean joined us soon after, wearing an expression that can only be described as pity. And Dean and I can only wait for Sam to doing anything—say anything. Eventually he does.

"We've got work to do."

~o~

**This was just a short little start or prequel thingy I guess. I reread it so many times to see if I could make it better, but I can't. IT WILL GET BETTER AND LONGER AFTER THIS, I promise :) Thanks!**


	2. I'm Coming Home

**So I think we can all agree that the first chapter was awful. And I like this one a lot better. I hope you do too! I am mostly writing this for myself so…if you don't, it's fine haha. But I really am trying to make this different and make Lucy interesting like she is to me. :) And also, excluding the first chapter, I think I'm going to do a song that fits each chapter and that will be the title!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy**

**~o~**

"_I'm coming home, I'm coming home  
tell the World I'm coming home  
Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday  
I know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes  
I'm coming home, I'm coming home  
tell the World that I'm coming-"_

**~o~**

**Chapter 2  
I'm Coming Home**

After Jessica died, Sammy was obviously heartbroken. He tried so hard to hide it away from Dean and I. But his true distress was revealed by the constant nightmares he suffered. I didn't even wanna know what he dreamt of, I just wanted him to be okay. The whole thing sort of freaked me out too. I mean, it couldn't have been a coincidence that Jess died the same way my mom died—and on the same date. It just didn't make sense.

But we were the Winchesters. We had to be troopers. And that's what we did. Following Dad's journal, my brothers and I were led to different jobs in the area. Our work was cut out for us—the very first one was one of those ugly ass Wendigos! And let me just say, I hope I never have to see one of those dicks again. We saved a woman and her young son just within the next week. We even dealt with this demon with a thing for crashing planes—first demon I'd ever seen. They're tough little bastards, but watching Dean freak out about flying was worth it.

We learned from a man named Jerry Panowski that he had gotten Dean's phone number from our Dad's voicemail. This was huge! Dad must have set his voicemail recently, indicating that he's at least still alive. Dean dialed his number, and Sam and I stood close to listen into the voicemail.

"It doesn't make sense. I've _called_ his number like 50 times. It's always been out of service," Sam said skeptically.

"So have I, Sam," I shot back. "It's possible, you know, he could have changed it. That can happen." Sam narrowed his eyes at me.

"Hey, you two, shut up," Dean commanded, beckoning us closer to listen.

"'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. Or my daughter, Lucy. 785-476-1100. They can help.'"

The voicemail stopped, and Dean and I shared a look—a mixture of both surprise and hope. As Sam stopped back into the car, slamming the door shut, I let my relief consume my expression.

"He's alive!" I mused with a small smirk. I playfully patted Dean on the shoulder and stumbled back into the back seat, ready to travel to our next destination—knock out our next job. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly enjoying this. I mean, it was a bit frustrating not knowing where Dad was. But I honestly liked hunting. Just counting the amount of people we, together as a family, had saved—it gave me a rush!

Three months had passed when I finally realized that Dad just didn't want to be found. That hurt a bit. But I still wanted to look. I figured that we had to eventually find him one way or another, and that was all that was important to me. I wanted—no, I needed my family back together again.

It was March 26th, 2006; Sam, Dean and I had just finished working possibly the worst case I've ever experienced. A curse was put upon this land that just happened to be the site of new homes galore. This curse sent the "biblical swarm" of thousands of insects to the Pike family living on that land. This would have been a fine, perfectly "normal" case. Except I can't stand bugs.

The second I witnessed the massive cloud of bees and a shit ton of other disgusting little things coming right at us, I realized I was living my worst nightmare. "Oh _HELL NO!_" I shouted and bolted inside, taking the 16 year old Matt by the shoulders and ushering him inside. I felt a sort of connection with Matt. He reminded me a lot of Sam.

We waited out and fought against the insects until the sun rose, carrying away the curse and the bugs with it. The morning after, we were relieved to see that the Pikes were moving far, far away from the newly built houses.

"Never again," I stated once we were on the road once more. "Never, ever, ever, again. I never wanna see another bug in my whole life."

"Not even this one?" Dean asked. It took me less than a second to spot the dead spider he was pushing in my face, and to let out a high pitched scream of terror. Dean burst out laughing, and even Sam—who was giving him a bitchface—couldn't hold back a chuckle. If he wasn't driving, I probably would have punched my oldest brother.

"That—was _not _funny," I fumed.

"What's funny is your little insect-o-phobia," Dean laughed.

"Entomophobia," Sam corrected.

"Whatever, bitch."

"Jerk."

"Yeah, I'll remember that the next time we're on a plane, Mr. 'Why do you think I drive everywhere'?" I mocked. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Loser," he muttered.

"Idiot," I smiled.

~o~

_March 29, 2006_

My eyes fluttered open at the slight movement of mine and Sam's bed, and the sound of his heavy breathing coming next to me. I flipped over slightly to see Sam sitting straight up, looking absolutely terrified.

"Sammy?" I grumbled. My brother jumped a little before noticing I was awake. "You okay?"

Sam nodded, rubbing his hands over his face. He sure didn't look okay. "Yeah, Luce, sorry. I'm fine. Just—"

"Was it another nightmare? Sammy, seriously this is—"

"Really," Sam interrupted, lying back down. "It was nothing. Lucy, I'm fine. I promise."

I stared at him for a bit longer, unconvinced. "Okay," I said doubtfully. I rested my head on Sam's shoulder and eased myself back to sleep.

"All right," Dean started the next morning, "I've been cruising some websites. Think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. Its crew vanished."

"Sounds fishy to me," I commented, resting my chin against the back of Dean's chair.

"That was a terrible pun," Dean remarked.

"Shut up, I'm hilarious."

Dean snorted. "And we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas. Hey!" I looked over to where Sam was sitting on the bed, invested in some sort of drawing thing he was doodling. "Are we boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

"No, I'm listening. Keep going," Sam reassured, heading back to his paper.

"Yeah—yeah you look really intrigued, Sam," I joked sarcastically. Sam glanced up for a split second to roll his eyes at me.

"And here a Sacramento man shot himself in the head," Dean continued, holding up three fingers, "three times." Sam gave no response. Dean waved the fingers at him in an attempted to get his attention, eventually lowering two fingers so he was only holding up a middle finger. I snorted into my coffee. "Any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal?"

Sam was silent for a moment, still devoted to the doodles he held in his hands. "Wait, hold on. I've seen this before." I raised my eyebrows as I watched my brother pull out our Dad's journal and eagerly flip through the pages. Neither Dean nor I said a word as Sam found what he was looking for, an epiphany blooming on his face.

"I know where we have to go next," he declared finally. I motioned for him to continue. "Back home. Back to Kansas."

I felt a start of surprise. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that. "What, why?" I inquired.

"Yeah, seriously, random," Dean added.

"Um, well…" Sam began, moving closer to where Dean and I sat. "This photo was taken in front of our old house right? The house where mom died?" I examined the picture when Sam set it down on the table. It was an old picture, taken near evening on the day I was born. A 7 year old Dean and a 3 year old Sam all huddled around Mom and Dad, who were holding me. I was just over 16 hours old.

"It didn't burn down completely. They rebuilt it, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I think so," I answered curiously. I was interested in where he was going with this.

"What the hell are you talking about, Sammy?" Dean asked, sounding much more exasperated than exciting. That was understandable. He had the most memories of the house and of Mom.

"Okay, look," Sam started. "This is gonna sound crazy; the people who live in our old house, I think they might be in danger."

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked, while I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Um…I just—you just gotta trust me on this, okay?"

"Trust you? Come on, man, that's weak," Dean prompted.

"If there's something going on, Sammy, you need to tell us," I said defiantly.

"Look, guys. I just can't explain it is all," Sam said.

"Well tough!" Dean shot back, exasperated. "We're not going anywhere until you do."

Sam sighed, turning around to face Dean and me. I raised a brow, impatient but concerned. "I have these nightmares," Sam began. I snorted.

"Yeah, no shit," I smirked.

"Will you let me finish?" my brother sassed. I beckoned him to continue.

"These dreams…sometimes they come true," Sam finished. Dean and I shared a glance with each other, similarly skeptical and confused. Even so, I mere statement like this worried me a bit. From what I've seen before, these nightmares obviously frightening Sam. And maybe this was why. "I, um. I dreamt about Jessica's death days before it happened."

"What, you think you had like—like a…psychic premonition or something?" I questioned cautiously. Dean let out a soft chuckle.

"No, come on, Luce. Sam, look man, people have weird dreams. I'm sure it's just a coincidence," he countered, sitting on the closest bed. I scoffed.

"Dean, when is shit like this ever a coincidence?" I argued.

"I'm with Lucy on this, Dean. I mean, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything and I didn't do anything because I didn't believe it. And now I'm dreaming about that tree, our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean—our house. That place, that's where it all started. That's gotta mean something, right?" Sam inquired.

I stared at my brother, subconsciously gulping. He was right. This could be huge for us. If he was implying what I think he was—if this was truly _it_—we could end this. We could stop this son of a bitch demon from killing anybody else. Dad would stop searching for it and come back to us. We could all be together again.

"I-I don't know," Dean said, overwhelmed. My oldest brother wasn't thinking the same way I was. I could tell he was scared. I could read him like an open book and he was scared freaking shitless. I grabbed the picture from the table and held it up anxiously.

"Sam. Do you think this might be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?" I asked. Dean stood from the bed, frustrated.

"Alright, just slow down okay, both of you," Dean interjected. "I mean, first you're telling us that you've got the shining…and then you tell us that we've got to go back home? Especially when…"

He trailed off, seeming to try to collect himself again. He was on the verge of tears. I furrowed my eyebrows, concerned for my brother. "When what?" Sam urged.

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there."

I stared at my brother sadly. I understood. I mean, he was seven when that night happened—when Mom died. He remembered it the most clearly out of the three of us. I felt truly sorry about that, I couldn't even imagine what that would have been like to experience. I moved close to Dean and put a comforting hand on his arm.

Sam wore a sympathetic look but continued softly, "Look, we have to check this out. Just to make sure."

Dean laid his hand softly over mine from where it was still grasping his upper arm. He was silent for a long time, before finally answering, "I know we do." Sam quickly nodded, giving Dean a small smile and began packing the bags we needed. I followed Dean outside to the Impala.

"If you're really not okay with this, we don't have to go—"I started.

"No. No, Sam's right. Freaky shit's going on, that woman could be in trouble. Kinda our job definition, no matter where," Dean said, attempting to push aside his emotions. I gave him a small half smile, and wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me close, burying his face in my blonde hair.

"That's my little trooper," I teased in a baby voice.

"Shut up," he grinned. He pulled away and shrugged. "Man, I know you don't remember anything about that night or anything. Just—be happy for that." I shifted uncomfortably, attempting a smile.

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me," I agreed nervously. Sam emerged from the hotel room with our bags, a ready and determined expression on his face. And we were off.

Neither of my brothers knew. Not even my dad knew. It seemed impossible. I mean, I was exactly a day old when my mother died. Born in the early morning hours of November 1, 1986 from right at home. I had less than 2 days with my mom. I wasn't able to remember certain things I wished I could, like my mother's face. I could only picture it because of photos Dad carried with him. I didn't remember my home whatsoever.

However, the thing was—I _did _remember something from that night. Three things, actually. It should have been impossible to remember at only a day old. But, I remembered the bright orange of the flames along with the blazing heat that emanated from it. That _heat_! It was awful.

I remembered the faint outline of a face. And it wasn't my dad's, I'm sure of it. The face wasn't one of evil. In fact, it was—angelic, in a way. Of course, I didn't have the ability to recall every feature of his face, but I remember it as a kind one. Impossibly, I felt like I could recall his soft voice too. Soothing, with an aura of playfulness.

And lastly, I remembered a blinding white light. My dad had told me that I had begun to cry in the middle of the night which is what woke him from his slumber in the downstairs living room. I assumed this was caused by the white light. When I close my eyes sometimes, that's what I can see. A pure, white, angelic light. And it confused the shit out of me.

~o~

There it was. The old house was right in front of me. I know I shouldn't have been, but I sat and gazed at it with interest as my brothers and I pulled up to it. It mirrored the pictures I had seen of it, even after the fire. This is where it all happened. Hey, this place was even where I was born! I should have been terrified, but I was fascinated.

"You gonna be all right, man?" Sam asked Dean. I knew he shared my secret excitement to see the house, but neither of us wanted to express this in front of our older brother.

"Let me get back to you on that," Dean answered, stepping out of the car. Sam and I followed, approaching the house quickly. Sam knocked on the door and less than a minute later, the door opened to reveal a pretty woman in about her late 20's.

"Hi Miss, we're with the federal—"Dean began, before Sam interrupted.

"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my older brother Dean, and my little sister Lucy. We, um, used to live here." I turn to give my brother a surprised look. We almost never gave out our real names. Dean wasn't pleased. "You know, we were just driving by, and we were wondering if we could see the old place."

A ghost of an interested smile appeared on the woman's face. "Winchester," she repeated. A full smile formed. "You know what's so funny. I think I found some of your old pictures last night." My eyes lit up.

"Really?" I said brightly. "Old pictures?" Dean nudged me gently in the side. "Right, sorry."

The woman looked a bit confused but still smiled. "No, I mean, it seems only right you should take them, it's no big deal." I smiled at her. "Oh, sorry…come in. I'm Jenny by the way." She opened the door wider for us. We stepped through the front door and I immediately took in my surroundings. It seemed like a perfectly normal house. If I didn't know the history behind it, I would have assumed that.

We were led into the kitchen, where we found two small children; a young, excited little boy and an older girl doing homework at the kitchen table. I didn't consider myself particularly good with children, but I couldn't help but smile at the young, adorable siblings.

"That's Ritchie," Jenny introduced, smiling at her son's antics. "He's kinda a juice junkie. But hey, at least he won't get scurvy." She handed him a small juice bottle and moved towards the kitchen table. "I love your sweatshirt, by the way. Sari here's a big Disney fan herself," Jenny added, pointing to my grey Disney sweatshirt. I smiled.

"Sari, this is Sam, Dean and Lucy. They used to live here," Jenny told her daughter. Sari shyly greeted us. In a bit of small talk, we found out that Jenny and her family had just moved to the house from Wichita in need of a fresh start. She explained that the house was having a few issues she assumed was due to its age. Such as rats, flickering lights and a backed up sink. But my brothers and I knew better.

"Mom," Sari spoke up. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here." That sparked my interest.

"If what lived here, Sari?" I asked softly.

"The thing in my closet," she answered, looking up at me. Her mother shook her head gently.

"No, baby, there was nothing in their closets. Right?" She looked up at us, hoping for the answer she wanted.

"Right, no, of course not," Sam played along. Jenny tried to explain that Sari had a nightmare, but the girl piped up again quickly.

"I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom, and it was on fire!"

My green eyes widened. It couldn't be. It just fit so perfectly! Sam and I exchanged a shocked and slightly excited look. "It was on fire?" I questioned the little girl. Dean cleared his throat sharply.

"Alright, Sam, Lucy, I think it's about time we be going. Jenny, thank you for letting us see the house, but I think it's time for us to hit the hay—we had kinda a long drive."

"Oh yeah, of course, no problem. Oh, um, do you want your pictures?" Jenny asked, pointing up towards the basement.

"Oh, we'll just come back for them," Dean said, before I could get in a word. He bit goodbye to the family for Sam and I and gently ushered us out the door as unsuspicious as possible.

"You hear that?" Sam exclaimed once we were outside. "A figure on fire!"

"And that woman Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. "And you hear what she was talking about—scratching, flickering lights? Both signs of a malevolent spirit."

"This has gotta be it, guys. This has gotta be the thing that killed them. Mom, Jessica, who _knows_ who else!" I cried, rushing in front of my brothers. Sam nodded along enthusiastically, while Dean looked frustrated.

"First off, we don't know that!" Dean snapped. "It could be something else entirely. And secondly, I'm freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true." Sam ignored the comment.

"Forget that—what's most important is that those people are in danger and we need to get them out of there!" Sam declared.

"And we will," Dean sighed. I could sense he was getting more exasperated by the second. As anxious and excited as I was, I took my oldest brother's feelings into consideration and tried to calm Sam a bit as he argued.

"No, I mean now!"

"Well she sure as hell won't believe us if we tell her the truth. I guess we just kinda got to think about this for a second," I reasoned. The three of us fell silent. Sam nodded, giving in.

"Alright. So," Sam started, opening the passenger side door, "let's think." I shared a look with Dean, and we both popped into our respective seats. I watched the house fade from view as Dean drove away.

~o~

**Better? :)**


	3. The Psychic and the Poltergeist

**For once I'm actually writing chapters ahead! Weeeee! I'm kinda invested in this now so, expect frequent updates (unless I get lazy…like usual). And yeah with the song thing for the chapter, nevermind, I've already given up on that. Unless I feel like it and I have a good fit, like idek. **

**I'm hoping for some reviews, but if not that's okay :) But here's the next chapter yeah!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy.**

**~o~**

**Chapter 3  
The Psychic and the Poltergeist**

"We just gotta chill out, that's all. If this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" I hopped up on the trunk of the Impala as Dean tried to look at our situation as practically as possible. "Hey, off the car." I rolled my eyes and slid back to the ground.

Sam sighed. "We'd try to figure out what we were dealing with. We'd dig into the history of the house."

"But that's out," I intervened. "Because we already _know_ what happened."

"Yeah, but how much do we know?" Sam asked. "I mean, I don't expect you to remember anything, Luce, but how much do you remember, Dean?"

I shifted uncomfortably again, still hiding what I truly remembered. I wasn't sure how my brothers would react to my secret. I saw a freaking _face_—one that I _knew_ wasn't a family member. That wasn't bound to go over too well.

"Not much," Dean said. "I remember the fire…the heat. Dad practically threw Lucy in my arms, and—after he grabbed you, he told me to get you two out. I carried you both." I quirked an eyebrow at my brother. Even back then he was our sole protector.

"You carried us?" Sam questioned, a childlike tone finding its way to his voice.

"Well, I sorta dragged you, but yeah. You never knew that?" Sam shook his head in response.

"What do you remember, Sam?" I asked curiously. He paused for a minute, considering.

"If I'm being honest here…nothing," Sam answered, shaking his head slightly.

"You were three, it's selective I guess," Dean noted. "Well, you know Dad's story. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her." I almost shuddered at the mental image.

"Did he ever have a theory about what did it?" Sam inquired.

I shook my head no while Dean answered with a sigh, "If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows I mean, we asked him enough times." I huffed in agreement.

"Dad's never really talked about that night. He always got really upset or pissy whenever we mentioned it," I added.

"Yeah, I mean, even after all this time, he's never really moved on, has he?" Sam agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's going on now, we have to figure out what happened back then, and see if it's the same thing."

"Yeah. We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time," Dean continued, nodding along.

"Sounds like a plan!" I commented with false cheer, crossing my arms over my chest.

Sam half smiled, letting out a low chuckle. "Does this feel like just another job?"

I imitated him. "Not at all." Dean didn't reply, and instead excused himself to the bathroom. When he was gone, I leaned slightly to my left, so I bumped Sam lightly with my shoulder. He smiled slightly down at me.

"You think we're pushing this whole thing too hard on Dean?" Sam asked, actually considering it for the first time. I shrugged.

"Dean's tough, honey. I'm just as worried about him as you are—hell, I'm worried about all of us," I replied ponderously. "But this is what we do. That house isn't normal; we know that better than anyone. Especially Dean." Sam nodded, looking down at his feet. I bumped him again. "Hey, if anything maybe it'll give us some peace of mind."

Sam laughed. "We're hunters, Lucy. I think that's the last thing we'll have." I snorted along with my brother. Even if we were to kill this bitch demon, I don't know how much it would actually change. It didn't matter how much I wished for it; killing this demon wouldn't bring Mom back.

~o~

My brothers and I decided on a place called "Guenther's Auto Repair", a garage that our dad used to own. There was one man there who knew our dad from 20 years ago, claiming to have co-owned it with him. From the owner, we discovered that Dad had begun reading strange books and gone to see some sort of palm reader, which of course, he didn't know the name of.

Later on, we had browsed through some phonebooks, searching for local psychics or palm readers, hoping to find a match. It seemed like we weren't having any luck at first. That is, until we stumbled upon the name Missouri Mosely. Ding ding! Turns out in Dad's journal, the very first thing he had written was "I went to Missouri, and I learned the truth."

We headed to the address written down in the phonebook. Turns out it wasn't too far from our old house—just a few streets away. My brothers and I entered and shrugged at each other before taking seats on the plushy couch in her living room. We must have waited only about five minutes before we finally met her.

"Don't you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you," a kind voice said, leading her current client out of the house. When the woman closed the door behind him, her smile dropped and she turned to face us. "Whew…poor bastard—his woman is cold bangin' the gardener." I let out a laugh of surprise.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked, slightly amused.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news."

"Kinda defeats the point of wanting to see your future, huh?" I smiled. The woman huffed.

"You're telling me," she grumbled, and began to walk away, but turned back to gesture to us over her shoulder. "Well? Sam, Lucy, Dean…come on already. I ain't got all day!" I smiled, and we followed her into the next room over. Her house was so…well, homey.

"Lemme look at ya!" Missouri beamed, laughing joyfully. "Oh you boys grew up handsome, and you were a goofy looking kid." She pointed at Dean, chuckling. I bit my lip to stop my laughter. I _loved _this woman. She put a hand on the side of my face. "Oh, pretty Lucy. How old are you? 20? You are _gorgeous_, my dear. You look like your mama. And a bit like your daddy. Got the best of both I see," she added, smiling brightly. I flushed a bit, but kept grinning like an idiot.

She dropped the hand from my cheek and reached over to grab Sam's hand. "Sam…oh honey. I'm sorry about your girlfriend. And your father…he's missing?" Both of my eyebrows rose, and I shared a surprised look with my siblings.

"How'd you know all that?" Sam asked.

"Well, you were thinking it, just now," Missouri replied, suggesting it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you know if he's okay?" I asked nervous, picking at the hem of my sweatshirt. Missouri looked at me sadly.

"No, I'm sorry, honey. I don't."

"Aren't you supposed to be a psychic?" Dean remarked skeptically. Missouri turned and gave him the sassiest look I have ever seen.

"Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air," she sassed sharply. I snickered uncontrollably, especially at Dean's dumbfounded expression. "Sit! Please."

We did as she said; I took a place in-between my brothers. As soon as Dean sat down, Missouri immediately started nagging him. "Boy you put your foot on my coffee table I'm gonna whack you with a spoon."

"I didn't do anything!"

"Well you were thinking about it." I didn't even bother holding back my laugh this time, and Sam easily joined me. Did I mention I _adored _this woman?

"Okay," Sam started, leaning forward intently. "So, our dad—when did you first meet him?"

Missouri informed us that she was the one who made him aware about our kinda stuff. You know—the demons and vampires and other evil stuff that we hunt. The truly disturbing thing wasn't that she didn't know much about what was in our house—she had investigated shortly after the fire. It was that by the little information she knew about it, she could tell it was evil.

I sighed uneasily, sharing a look with my brothers. Sam touched the back of his hand softly with mine in comfort. "So," Missouri continued, watching us carefully, "you think something's back in that house?"

"Definitely," Sam answered, nodding.

"The little girl living there now. She thought she saw something too," I added in.

"I don't understand," Missouri said, sitting down. "I haven't been back inside, but I've been keeping an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?"

"I don't know," Sam responded. "But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something's starting."

"And that's just awesome for us," I sighed sarcastically.

~o~

The door of our old house opened to reveal a clearly distressed Jenny. Immediately, concern took over me. "Sam, Dean, Lucy—what are you doing here?"

Sam and I both put on smiles for the woman and her son. "Hey Jenny. This is our friend Missouri," Sam introduced. Missouri stepped forward, smiling gently at Jenny.

"If it's not too much trouble," Dean started, "we were hoping to show her the house, for old time's sake."

"And, um, pick up those pictures," I said reluctantly. "Listen, we can come back if this is a bad time—"

Jenny looked obviously relieved when I said this. "Yeah, I'm sorry; I'm just kind of busy right now." Dean caught her from closing the door, and I shot a look at my oldest brother.

"No, listen Jenny, its important—ow!" I couldn't stop the laugh that resulted when Missouri slapped my brother right upside the head—something I had been only moments away from doing myself.

"Give the poor girl a break. Can't you see she's upset?" the older woman scolded him. "Forgive this boy, he means well—he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed. But hear me out." I snorted once again. Dean shot me a glare.

Jenny stared at her nervously. "About what?" she asked, but I had a feeling she already knew.

"You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

Jenny faltered, fear in her eyes. "Who are you?"

"We're people who can help—who can stop this thing," Missouri replied, "but you're gonna have to trust us a little." Jenny inhaled, clearly doubtful and terrified. She glanced at each of the faces in front of her, and, after what seemed like hours, decided we were worth trusting.

~o~

Missouri had led us throughout most of the house, investigating each room carefully, just waiting to feel something, anything that was off. One of the last rooms we entered was a smaller upstairs room painted a light blue. I immediately felt…wrong. Like I needed to leave at once. Like something didn't want me there.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it," Missouri stated, after a long while. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dean frown.

"Why?" Sam asked after an once-over of the room.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened." My eyes widened, and I instantaneously glanced up towards the ceiling.

"You mean…here?" I practically whispered, pointing up at the ceiling.

"Mhmm." A chill ran up my spine. It was so surreal. I was standing right where my mother died. I was a little bit freaked out and anxious, but oddly anticipated. Beside me, Dean pulled out his EMF detector. Sam wrapped an arm around my waist as Missouri nodded at Dean, saying, "That an EMF?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. He only looked up when Missouri scoffed.

"Amateur." I fought a smile. Missouri took a moment to take in the room, observing everything she could. "I don't know if you kids should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom."

Sam's grip around my waist tightened as my brothers and I started in surprise. I ran a hand through my long hair. "Wow, um…kinda both I guess, are—are you sure?" I stuttered emotively. Missouri nodded in response.

"Wait, how do you know?" Sam questioned.

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's somethin' different." She yanked the closet doors open. I bit my lip. I didn't have a good feeling about this.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Not it…" Missouri turned to face us from her position inside the closet. "Them. There's more than one spirit in this place."

"What are they doing here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, how'd—how'd they all get here?" I added onto my brother's question.

I detected sympathy in her eyes as she moved over towards us. "They're here because of what happened to your family," she responded sadly. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds, and sometimes wounds get infected."

This time it was my grip on Sam that tightened and I reached for Dean's hand. "I don't understand," Sam said his voice on the verge of trembling.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy." Missouri paused, trying to be as gentle as possible. "It's attracted a poltergeist—a nasty one—and it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead." I took in what she told us, and raised my eyebrows, recalling a fact from earlier.

Breaking away from my hold on my older brothers, I moved toward the closet. "The little girl—Jenny's daughter. She said she saw this—this figure. A flaming figure in this closet. Was that it? The poltergeist?" I inquired fervently. Missouri's brow furrowed, pondering this.

"I don't know exactly what that is, but what I'm thinking is that's another one of the spirits in this house. It could be anything, dear," she spoke softly.

I chewed my lip again. Another spirit. Another flaming spirit. Another flaming spirit in this house. The house in which my mother died…from fire.

No. It couldn't be.

I shook it off, tuning back into the conversation. "Well one thing's for damn sure," Dean interjected. "Nobody's dying in this house ever again." I inhaled sharply, trying to calm myself from my frantic thoughts. "So whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

Back in the kitchen, Missouri had set us up with tons of supplies that were supposed to purify the house and destroy all the spirits. Once we were set up, we sent Jenny and her kids away to the movies so they wouldn't get hurt and we each decided on a particular floor or room. Missouri took the basement, Sam the second floor, Dean in the kitchen, leaving me with the living room.

Alone in the living room, I inspected every corner. It was decently sized, equipped with a tan couch and chair, a brown wooden coffee table to match those in the kitchen and a fairly average TV, with two identical shelves filled with books and movies on either side of it. I sighed, strutting over to the wall and taking out my knife, preparing to place the purifying bag into it.

I should have been watching. Before I could react, the large tan couch was speeding towards me. It hurdled right into me, slamming me hard against the wall, sending my knife cluttering to the floor. I cried out in pain as my back and head hit the hard surface rather painfully. I struggled against it frantically. I could barely move a muscle. My knife began to rise and was now hovering in front of me, right between my eyes. I felt tears of panic forming.

From the kitchen, I heard several _plunking_ sounds in succession—almost like knives sticking into a surface. And from upstairs came a loud thump and numerous gasping sounds. It wasn't only me; my brothers—my _family_—were in trouble too. I felt my frustration build up to a bubbling point.

"NO!" I screamed, shoving the couch in what I thought would be a useless attempt to free myself. In shock, I watched as the large tan couch—easily 80 pounds heavier than me—lifted clear off the ground and landed with a crash a few feet away from me. The force of it knocked me off my feet, and I stumbled to the ground, along with my knife.

Above me, the TV began to quiver. I reacted as quickly as possible, and rolled to my left. The  
TV crashed right next to me, missing me by mere millimeters. I lay on the ground, panting and in complete shock. I mean, I was strong. But I wasn't strong enough to lift a 200 pound couch all by myself.

How. _The fuck_. Did I do that?

Before I realized what was happening, Dean had crouched beside me. "Lucy!" he cried, checking me over for injuries. "You okay?" he asked worriedly, helping me to my feet.

"I'm fine, I promise."

We heard another thump from upstairs and met each other's scared expressions. "Sam!" we exclaimed together and raced up the stairs. We found him in one of the bedrooms, a power cord wrapped around his neck choking the life out of him. I almost screamed, bolting to his side.

Dean and I both struggled with the strangling chord, desperately trying to rip it off his neck. But the chord wouldn't surrender. Sam's eyes began to droop close, and little by little his motions relaxed. "No, Sammy, don't you dare!" I growled. Maybe if I could just get one of those weird power surge things again—like the one I just had.

But Dean moved away. I had started to harshly question him, until I realized what he was doing. He rapidly shoved one of the bags into the open hole in the wall. Instantly, a bright, piercing light shone about the room. This light was similar to the light I remembered on my Mom's death day. Dean had closed his eyes against it, but I watched it from start to finish.

The chord fell from Sam's neck. My brother gasped for long awaited air. I felt the biggest sense of relief wash over me. Once Dean had pulled the chord away, we grabbed him, clutching onto our fortunately still alive family.

~o~

The house was a mess once we got through with it. I felt so bad for this family—all their shit was basically scattered among their house in disarray. Missouri made Dean clean it up. I have said it before and I will say it again. I. Love. That. Woman.

She assured us this whole thing with the poltergeist and our house was over. But Sam wasn't convinced. He felt like there was something bigger—something more dangerous coming. And to be honest, I kinda understood. But that wasn't the only reason I was reluctant to leave the house. I just felt like there was something missing. Something that we haven't dealt with yet. And I knew exactly why I felt that way.

Before we left, I excused myself to the upstairs bathroom. I paused for a moment outside the door of Sam's old nursery—the place it all started. It was a stretch…but I had to try. I gulped, walking into the room and silently examining it for a moment. My eyes froze on the ceiling.

I took a giant calming breath. "Mom?" I called out softly. I bit my bottom lip as I glanced around the room. I didn't really expect an answer—but I was hoping for one so badly. "It's me. It's, uh—Lucy. I know you only knew me for like a day, but. I, um…listen, I don't know if you're actually here. I hope you're not. You—you deserve something much better. But," I felt tears forming in my eyes as I spoke. "Are you here? Mom? Tell me."

"Lucy!" I heard Dean call from downstairs. I wiped my eyes, sniffing stubbornly. Clearing my throat, I yelled back that I was coming. I moved to leave, pausing in the doorway.

"…Bye, Mom."

~o~

**A bit of an inside on Lucy's upcoming story line there :) Hope you like!**


	4. Mama Winchester

**Just moving this along. I think season 1 will be pretty easy to cover. I'm a bit unsure about season 2 and 3, but after that it should be fun! I kinda LOVE writing this, I don't even care if people don't like it haha! Plus I have A LOT of time to write, considering it's my senior year and I go from 6:45-11:45 am. It. Is. Wonderful. **

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 4  
Mama Winchester**

We were still here. We were still at the old house. Even after we had given it the "all clear", Sammy remained insistent that this wasn't quite over. Dean, however, was on the opposing side. He felt that we had done everything we could and that blinding light signaled the end of it. Me? Honestly, I wasn't too sure either. Something felt…wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

My brothers and I ultimately stayed for the night, parking just outside the house to keep a close watch for anything strange throughout the night. I was trying not to let my exhausting overcome me, but it was difficult and rather boring just staring at this dark house.

"All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doing here?" Dean sighed from the driver's seat. I leaned my head on his shoulder, attempting to keep my eyes open.

"I just…I still have a bad feeling," Sam said intently.

"It doesn't feel like this is over to me," I added, now resting my eyes.

"Exactly."

"Why?" Dean questioned tiredly. "Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing. The house should be clean."

"Yeah, probably," Sam assured. "But I just want to make sure. That's all."

"Yeah well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now," Dean retorted, resting his head against the top of mine.

"It's just one night; get over it, you big baby," I smirked. Dean nudged me painfully in the side. Sam ignored us, focusing more fixedly on the house. I poked one eye open and noticed his expression had become more alarmed.

"Guys!" Sam exclaimed, jumping out of the car and bolting towards the house. Looking up, I saw Jenny on the top floor, screaming and frantically banging on the window.

"Oh my god!" I cried. Dean and I hastily followed our brother.

"You two grab the kids, I've got Jenny!" Dean shouted at us. Sam and I obeyed and sprinted up the stairs at top speed.

"I'll get Sari!" I informed Sam as I scampered to her room. I froze in shock at the sight I was met with once I had gotten there. It was the figure on fire. Just like Sari had said. And that figure was looking directly at me.

I couldn't move for a moment. A million emotions ran through me. First fear, there was definitely some of that going on. But mostly I felt a sense of recognition. There was no way for me to identify that this figure was exactly who I assumed it was. But as I stared at it—I saw past the flames. I knew who it was. I just _knew_.

"Help me, please!" Sari sobbed from her bed. She was clutching her blanket to her in utter terror. I made my way to her side swiftly, grabbing her hand and pulling her from her bed. I knelt to her side.

"It's okay, honey," I breathed, smiling at her in a calming manner. "You're okay. She's not going to hurt you." And with that, I hauled her into my arms, past the peaceful flaming figure and downstairs to my brother.

"Lucy," Sam started, setting Ritchie down next to me, "take them outside, make sure they get to their mom safely—"

"You are _not_ staying in here alone, Sam!" I yelled, setting Sari down by her brother.

"Just do it, Lucy!" he screamed back.

"Hell no!"

Sam's feet suddenly got yanked from under him, causing him to fall to the floor and get dragged off by an invisible force. "SAM!" I shrieked. I was about to dart after him, but turned to the horrified kids first. "Sari, listen, everything will be okay, honey. Just take Ritchie outside and please, whatever you do. _Don't look back_."

I bolted down the hall after my brother, worried out of my mind. I found him again in the kitchen, being held up by the neck. I arrived just in time to see him flung across the room, crashing into the cabinets and down to the floor. A wave of fury washed over me.

"Alright, fucker! Where are you, you son of a bitch?" I shouted impulsively. I screamed as I was immediately and harshly flung into another room. The force slammed me against the wall so roughly that my vision blacked out momentarily. While I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to recover from the pain, I heard Sam hit the wall rather close to where I was standing. Before I could react, we were both lifted up, and I felt every single limb glued to the wall. I couldn't budge.

The flaming figure materialized before us, and I got my second glimpse of her. She took step by step towards us and in result the heat flared hotter and hotter. But I wasn't frightened anymore. My lower lip trembled as I spoke my next pleading words.

"Help us. Please."

Sam looked at me with complete disbelief. "Are you crazy, what are you doing?" he cried, bewildered. I looked my brother in the eyes, green meeting hazel.

"Sam," I croaked. "It's Mom." My brother's eyes widened as he took in my words. Breathing heavily, he gazed at the flaming figure, realization dawning in his eyes.

"Sam! Lucy!" Dean called from somewhere in the house. My oldest brother appeared in the room, rushing up to us. He whirled around only to see the flaming figure approaching us slowly. As an instinct, he raised his rifle, pointing it at her with a look of determination.

"No don't!" "Dean, wait!" Sam and I shouted, our words overlapping each other. Dean kept his gun on the spirit.

"What, why?!" he cried, confused.

"B-Because Lucy was right," Sam quavered. "I can see her now." I felt a proud smile blooming on my face. And suddenly, the flames faded. Long, flowing blonde hair transformed from the rippling flames. Orange lightened into a white dressing gown, and a full body became visible. The flames had completely disappeared.

My mother stood in front of me. She was just as beautiful as her pictures, with a bright face, full lips and gorgeous hair. I let out a shuddering breath as I took her in. Even if it was as a ghost, this is the first time I've ever seen her in person. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Mom?" Dean gasped, his voice shaking. He let his weapon drop to his side as Mom smiled prettily at him. She approached him, her loving gaze never leaving his face.

"Dean," she spoke softly. This was the first time I ever heard her voice. Dean stared back at her with tearful eyes, speechless and emotional. Smiling gently, she moved around him to Sam, giving him another smile like she had given to Dean.

"Sam," she said. The corners of Sam's lips quirked upward and tears fell onto his cheeks. Like Dean, he couldn't bring himself to speak. He instead let out a breathy, tearful laugh. Our mother's smile fell and her expression turned sympathetic and remorseful. "I'm sorry."

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. "For…for what?" he breathed, flustered. He received no response. She stared at him a bit sadly for a few moments longer, and finally stepped towards me. Tears dripped down my face as I looked into her green eyes. Her ghost of a touch gently pushed a strand of my hair out my identical eyes.

"Lucy." More tears formed at the sound of my name. Shakily, I smiled, absorbing her every feature. I couldn't conceive that this was actually happening.

"I knew it," I whispered with a small chuckle. I was basically crying like a baby; it couldn't be helped. My mother grinned her beautiful smile. Once again, her expression changed. She was sorrowful this time, her eyes full of regret.

"And I'm sorry to you too," she addressed. Like Sam, I was perplexed. What the hell was she sorry for? She didn't ask to be killed. She had nothing to be sorry for.

I shook my head slowly. "Don't be," I choked out, tears continuing to flow. A small smile returned to her pretty face. She examined me for a bit longer. Eventually, she turned, walking slowly forward and faced the ceiling.

"You get out of my house," Mom ordered the poltergeist. "And let go of my children." I jumped and watched in horror as she burst into her original flaming form. The flames crept up towards the ceiling in what looked like a slight struggle. Once they reached the top, the flames vanished. The hold on Sam and I dropped and we both plopped heavily to our feet. My brothers and I stood side by side, all in shock and breathing heavily.

"Mom?" I broke the silence with a trembling voice. I was still crying silently. No response followed. There was a long silence between my brothers and me— waiting for anything to happen. Anything else that could have possibly followed.

Sam was the one who broke the silence this time. "_Now_ it's over."

~o~

I strolled slowly through the hallway of my birthplace—my first home, taking in the scenery of the house for the last time. It was the morning after the storm and so…this was it. After this, my brothers and I were gone. I'm not one to say that we'd never come back, but it didn't seem likely.

I reached the kitchen, stopping to peer inside. At the table sat the little girl Sari, who was fiddling with her bowl of cereal. I presumed she was still a little scared by everything she had witness. I didn't blame her. Everything I withstood as a kid was enough to scar me for life. I made my way to her, smiling at her as I took a seat.

"Hi, Sari," I greeted gently. She returned my smile.

"Hi."

"Are you okay? I know this might have freaked you out a little," I questioned her, concerned. She nodded shortly.

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm just glad that thing's gone. The bad thing, not the one on fire."

I nodded, leaning forward a bit. "The figure you saw—the one on fire." I paused for a moment, considering my words. "That was my mom." Sari dropped her spoon, her eyes widening.

"That was your mommy?" the little girl questioned, her voice full of wonder. I gave her a small, sad smile and nodded again.

"Yep," I replied. "She was stuck here for a _long_ time. And when you moved in, she protected you. And your brother, and your mom—just like she protected me and my brothers." I took her hand and grinned kindly at her. "You guys are safe now. I promise." Sari once again returned my smile.

"Lucy?" a voice behind me said. I turned around to see Jenny standing in the doorway, also wearing a smile. "Your brothers are waiting for you." I nodded and gave Sari's hand a small squeeze. I began to leave exit the house when Jenny put a hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

Her expression was filled only with happiness, gratitude and relief. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully. I beamed.

"You're welcome," I responded joyfully. I made to leave, but halted once more. "And listen…you're a great mom to these kids, I just. I grew up without a mom; she was only alive for about a day after I was born and—well, I don't really need to get into that. Just—thank you for being so good to them, they…they need that."

Jenny looked taken back and at loss for words. "T-Thank you," she repeated. With one last smile, she shut the door behind me. Heading to the car where my brothers were waiting, I passed Missouri. She placed a hand on the side of my face, stroking a finger across my cheek. A look of concern crossed her face.

"I know you're worried by what happened in that house, sweetheart. Not just with your mama but you're scared of something that happened to you," she observed. I bit my lip, nervously fidgeting. A slight smile formed on her lips. "Whatever it is, don't stress yourself out about it, girl. It's good, it's bright—it's a _gift_." I swallowed heavily.

"That whole weird superhuman strength thing—that doesn't seem 'good', Missouri. What—what _is_ happening to me? What do you mean?" I questioned her anxiously. Her eyebrows furrowed.

"I…I don't know, honey." I sighed. I could only accept this answer. Instead of questioning it further, I gave the woman a tight hug before meeting my brothers at the car. "Now don't you kids be strangers!" she called out to us.

"We won't," Dean answered, smiling slightly.

The three of us slid into our respective seats with Sam in the passenger seat, Dean as the driver and me in the middle of the back seat with my arms and chin leaning on the back of the front seat. Dean ignited the engine and I watched the house fade from view as we tore off down the street and out of Lawrence, Kansas. What I didn't know at the time is that we were also driving away from our father, only a few blocks away.

~o~

Within the next two weeks, my brothers managed to almost kill each other at least twice. And I was starting to get frustrated. I mean, this was _ridiculous_! Two grown ass men, 27 and 23 years old, at each others' throats like they were little bratty children. I'd been putting up with this for a majority of my life; but I just can't _stand_ when they fight—when any of my family fights. Playing the peacemaker constantly gets exhausting and irritating.

Even after the whole thing in Kansas with our house and Mom's spirit, Dean and Sam's opinions on Dad were opposing and extremely conflicting. We worked this case with an asylum involved (and let me tell you: freaky things I'm most scared of, like hospitals and asylums and bugs, always tend to haunt me in these cases; there's no escape!) and Sam almost shot Dean! Well, he was technically not Sam and being semi-possessed by an evil spirit…but still. Sam wasn't too keen on tracking a father that didn't want to be found; while Dean was inclined to obey Dad's every order.

I just longed for them to stop head butting. Was that too difficult to ask for?

We _did_ get a call from Dad though! I think it was April 8th, 2006. Yeah, I remember now. I was fast asleep, and it was early in the morning. And I was woken up by the sound of Sam speaking to someone over the phone.

"Sam, shut the hell up, I'm trying to sleep," I grumbled into my pillow. I'm not a morning person. Actually, I'm not much of an 'awake'-person.

"It's Dad," Sam whispered to Dean and I. That woke us both up. We listened intently to the one-sided conversation, and it seemed like Dad was telling Sam about the thing that killed Mom. A demon he said. He thinks it was a demon. I heard something about names, and Sam was slowly getting angrier. Finally,  
Dean grabbed the phone from him.

"Put it on speaker," I ordered Dean. He shushed me, and I fumed. I growled out, "_Put it on speaker, Dean_." He rolled his eyes and obliged. I listened to Dad dodge our attempts to ask him where he was. Instead, he gave us names to write down.

And that was it. That was all he had to say. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little angry. He was hunting that _thing_—that demon that killed our mother and he was so fucking stubborn and bull-headed that he wouldn't let us assist even a little. So yeah. I was pissed with my Dad at the moment. I understood where Sam was coming from. But still, I wasn't going to go against his orders. I loved my Dad too much for that.

Dad led us to our next hunt with those names. It was some freaky scarecrow that turned out to be this pagan god thing—I still don't really get it. But my brothers had another fight and it got to the point where Sam decided to venture off on his own. And Dean _let him_. Needless to say, I wasn't only pissed off with my Dad—now I was pissed with my asshole brothers too.

"I can't believe you two," I muttered angrily, shaking my head. Dean and I were on the way to Indiana…without Sam. Who was traveling his own way to California. Dean gritted his teeth.

"Well, what did you expect me to do, Lucy? Huh?" Dean yelled exasperatedly. "He wanted to go, so I let him go! If he wants to go be a stubborn bitch, so be it!"

I huffed irritably. "I expect you two to get over yourselves! Jesus, Dean, _why_ can't you two get along for two fucking seconds!" I cried. "And now we're all split up and you two are fighting and now _we're_ fighting and…" I trailed off, anxiety overcoming my voice. After a few moments, I heard Dean sigh.

"I'm sorry," he muttered genuinely. He knew how upset it made me when our family fought—especially if one ended up leaving. Hell, he'd been dealing with it for 20 years. I gently put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, letting him know that I forgave him. "He'll come back. If not, we'll go and get him. Okay?" I nodded silently, staring out the window.

We did get him back. It took a few days and a whole hunt, but he returned to us just in time. He apparently never even made it to California. I wonder what he could have spent all that time doing. Nevertheless, I was secretly content just to have us all together again.

And then I almost lost one of them again. While working a case, Dean suffered through a severe electrocution and ended up with fatal damage to his heart. Sam and I were told that he had only weeks to a month to live. I couldn't let that happen. Dean, he—he couldn't just _leave _me like that. If he left me, I don't know what I'd do. I'd be lost.

Sam dragged us along to some miracle faith healer, and worked his magic on Dean. And just like that, Dean was fine. He was healed. I wasn't a religious person; the only thing I bothered to put my faith in was my family. The fact that this miracle had been successful was enough to originally surprise the belief into me. But it turned out "the Lord" wasn't the force at work there at all. The culprit was a reaper controlled by the healer's insane wife.

We met up with Dean's ex, Cassie, a little bit after that. When I was younger, I had a bit of an animosity towards her caused by the normal 'what's-mine-is-mine' little kid jealously. I didn't want to share my big brother. But I liked her now. She was strong and independent. Plus, Dean really liked her.

When we left her (she had turned Dean down…again), he joked with me, "It's okay. You're the only girl I need in my life." He pinched my cheek from where I was sitting in the driver's seat (yes, could it be? Dean actually let me drive for once!). I swatted it away with a grin.

"You sap," I mocked.

We spent a week in Michigan after Sam had another one of his visions. This one was creepier though, because it was during the day and…it actually seemed to _hurt_ him. The family we were dealing with was named the Millers, and Sam had a freaky premonition of both the father and his brother being brutally killed by an unknown force. The son of the dad—Max Miller—he was behind all of it.

Sam found someone else, well…like him. Max was psychic too. They had some weirdo connection that brought Sam to him. But Max was still different than Sam. He was a killer. He used the powers he had to kill his family, and he crossed the line when he almost killed Dean! Dean seemed to be having a lot of near death experiences lately, and it was kinda worrying me.

Max ended up shooting himself in the head; which isn't exactly how we planned it to go, but hey. At least he won't kill anyone else. When my brothers and I were back in the hotel room, Sam expressed him and Max's connection and the psychic abilities they both shared. And then…he mentioned something that hit me hard.

"When Max left me in that closet, with that big cabinet against the door," Sam started, looking for the best way to phrase it, "...I moved it." Dean shrugged it off, but I automatically understood what he was trying to tell us.

"You got a little more upper body strength than I gave you credit for," Dean mused.

"No man, I moved it," he insisted. "Like, Max."

Dean and I both stopped to stare at him. Sam had moved it with _his mind_. That was new. But the thing was…it sounded close to what I had done months back. With the couch in our old house. Somehow, I moved it. I didn't just move it, I freaking _threw_ it.

"…I just...I saw you die and it just came out of me like a punch. You know like...a freak adrenaline thing," Sam said. I hadn't been listening to my brothers' conversation the past few seconds, but my attention returned for this.

"Yeah well I'm sure it won't happen again."

"It happened to me too," I blurted out. My brothers swiveled around to stare at me in shock.

"W-what?" Sam asked. He was looking at me like I had just grown two heads. I might as well have.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Okay, well," I started, "it wasn't exactly the same. I didn't move it with my mind or anything—I don't think I did. But when we were in our old house, that poltergeist had me pinned to the wall with the living room couch. And you know that thing? It's like 200 freaking pounds! I—I pushed it. And it kinda flew all the way across the room. If you say anything among the lines of upper body strength, Dean Winchester, so help me—"

"So, what you had like a power surge or something?" Dean questioned. He threw his hands up. "Am I the only normal one in this family?"

Sam had to chuckle at that. "You aren't exactly 'normal', Dean."

"Compared to Wonder Woman and Magneto, yeah, I'd say I'm hella normal!" Dean cried. I rolled my eyes.

"Really?" Sam said, shaking his head. "Come on, man. Magneto can only manipulate magnetic fields; at least get your facts straight." I snorted.

"You are such a fucking nerd," Dean commented. Sam held back a smile. "Like I said, whatever's going on with either of you—I'm sure it's not gonna happen again. And you know why? Cause you got me." I gave him a pouty face.

"Awww, well aren't you sweet?" I teased in a baby voice. Dean wrapped an arm tight around my shoulders.

"Sister, I am like _sugar_."

~o~

**Well this is my longest chapter so far, so I'm just gonna end this here whoops. Hope you like :)**


	5. My Brother's New Bitch Girlfriend

**I like this chapter. It reveals some more defining characters things about Lucy and gives you a bit of an inside to her mind! And of course, my favourite female character in the show (and overall 2****nd**** favourite female TV show character) is introduced in this (yes, hello, my beautiful Meg)! Plus…family feels. So this one's a little bit mushy ;)**

**Also I'm not too strict about editing on this. Like I don't really care too much since it's more for me than anyone else haha :)**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 5  
My Brother's New Bitch Girlfriend  
**_June 9, 2006_

Sam, Dean and I were in Chicago for a new job we found in the papers. Last week, we had hit up Vegas for a few nights (a great chance for me to use my fake ID) just to take our mind off of things for a while. With everything that was going on, it was nice to just get away. I met this girl while we were there—pretty, funny and a _damn_ good time. Course, it was just for a few nights.

In Chicago, a young girl had been killed in her apartment. Her apartment which was locked and had an armed alarm system. So pretty freaky business. Sam and Dean left a little earlier today to investigate the apartment, leaving me to do some research of the last murder in the city. When they returned, we compared some of the info we collected. They seemed to correlate. Plus, my brothers found some creepy sign written in the victim's blood.

We were now at this crowded bar that the murdered girl had worked at before she kicked it. I sat at one of the clean tables, shuffling through my bag and pulling out a few of the articles about the first victim I had discovered. Sam joined me a few minutes later, looking stumped from his research.

"Well," Dean started, sliding my melon daiquiri to me, "I talked to the bartender."

"Yeah," I snorted. "We all saw your hand practically up her skirt. Did you get anything besides her number?" Dean scrunched up his face, pretending to appear hurt.

"Hey, I'm a professional. I'm offended that either of you would think that," he scolded. I quirked a brow. Then, he grinned, holding up a napkin. "Alright, yeah, I did." I rolled my eyes.

"You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?" Sam chastised, and I laughed.

Dean threw up his hands in defense. "There's nothing else to find out! I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, and everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal; she didn't do or say anything weird before she died…get off my back. Find anything on the symbol?"

"Nothing. Not in dad's journal or in the usual books. We'll just have to dig a little deeper I guess," Sam replied. I nodded, taking a sip from my drink. "What about the first victim?"

"Mm!" I set the drink down and started digging through the articles I obtained. I pulled one from the stack and set it in front of my brothers, showing them the guy's picture. "Ben Swardstrom. He was mutilated in his house, which was locked with the alarm system armed. No sign of entry besides his own. So it's gotta be the same thing."

"Is there any connection between the two of them?" Dean asked me. I shook my head.

"Doesn't look like it. They lived two completely different lives. I mean, they haven't even met," I replied. I put the straw of my drink up to my lips and smirked. I added, "But hey, at least we have that bartender's phone number!" Dean lightly kicked me under the table.

Sam suddenly stood, cutting off towards something. Dean and I exchanged a puzzled glance and got up to follow him. Right before us, he stopped at a table occupied by one person. He placed a hand on the shoulder of a girl with short blonde hair and a fluttery pink top. She seemed to recognize him, and reached up to give him a hug. 'What the hell?' I mouthed to Dean. He shrugged.

"I thought you were going to California?" Dean and I heard Sam say to the young woman as we approached them. Sam was obviously please to see her. Who the hell was she?

"Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered," the girl answered. I raised a brow at Sam, hoping he'd get the message even though he couldn't see my expression. "Oh and I met what's his name—something Michael Murray—at a bar."

"Chad Michael Murray?" I questioned, breaking into their conversation. The girl gave a snap of recognition.

"That's the one!" she acknowledged…and then went back to pretending Dean and I weren't there. "Anyway the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while." Dean tried to clear his throat to get Sam's attention, but it didn't work.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts-Andover." She paused, and beamed. "Gosh Sam. What are the odds we'd run into each other?" I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes again.

"Yeah I know. I thought I'd never see you again."

"Well I'm glad you were wrong."

Dean attempted to clear his throat again, and finally it caught their attention. "Dude, cover your mouth." A small laugh escaped me, more in surprise than anything. Dean shot a glare in my direction.

"Hi, yeah sorry. My brother didn't inform us that he had friends in the area," I chimed in, sending a sarcastic smile over to Sam. His eyes narrowed slightly. Meg, however, widened her eyes in surprise.

"Oh so _you're_ Lucy, Sam's sister?" she addressed. I raised both of my eyebrows.

"Uh…yeah. I see I've been mentioned," I commented.

"Sam mentioned you, yeah," the girl assured, and turned to look at Dean. "Then you must be his brother, Dean?"

Dean grinned. "So, you've heard of me?" Meg sent him a very fake smile.

"Oh yeah I've heard of you," her voice had filled with malice. "Nice how you treat your brother like luggage." I was taken back. Excuse me?

"Sorry?" Dean asked, confused.

"Meg," Sam interrupted. "It's alright."

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth," Meg coaxed furiously. I stepped in, a pseudo joyful expression on my face.

"_Okay_," I started, faking a friendly tone. "You need to back the hell off—"

"I think we need to go get a drink now," Dean interjected, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the bar, letting Sam and Meg finish their conversation. When we reached the bar, he let go, and I threw my freed arms up in annoyance.

"The _hell_?" I cried. Dean whistled, shrugging and ordering two shots.

"I don't know." We looked back over to where Sam and Meg were chatting and I noticed Sam's phone in his hands.

"Is he getting her _number_?" I exclaimed dramatically. Dean shoved a shot glass in my hand and I gulped it down, my eyes not once leaving Sam and Meg. They finished up their conversation and soon Sam was strolling over to Dean and me, shoving his phone in his pocket.

"Everything okay?" he asked me as we were leaving the bar, meeting my irritated gaze.

"No, your girlfriend's a bitch!" I shot back. Sam scoffed.

"Come on, Meg's not that bad," he insisted. "And she's not my girlfriend!"

"Then who was she?" Dean questioned. I raised my brow, as if to ask the same question.

"I don't really know, I only met her once. But meeting up with her again?" He shook his head. "I don't know, man, it's weird."

"Maybe you have a stalker," I teased. "At least she's pretty; I'd give her an 8." Sam sent me one of his bitchfaces in response.

"What was she saying—I treat you like luggage? Were you bitching about me to some chick?"

"Look I'm sorry Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana—"

"Is there any truth to what she's saying? Am I keeping you against your will Sam?" Dean accused, his voice building up with anger. They were on the verge of another blow out, I could just feel it. I looked over at him with wide eyes, crossing my arms.

"Stop it," I warned darkly. I'm not going to put up with that shit, that's for sure. Dean paused, and gave me a slightly apologetic glance. He wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"Of course there's not!" Sam assured him. "Now _listen_, both of you. I think there's something strange going on here."

"Yeah tell me about it, she wasn't even that into me—ow!"

Dean rubbed the part of his arm where I slapped him. I gestured for Sam to continue. He explained, "I met Meg weeks ago literally on the side of the road. And now I run into her in some random Chicago bar—the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural. You don't think that's weird?"

Dean was quick to shrug it off. "Random coincidence, it happens." I sighed.

"For the last time, Dean," I declared, "shit like this is never a coincidence. We don't _get_ coincidences."

"I could be wrong," Sam continued. "I'm just saying there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on." Dean smirked.

"I bet you'd like to."

I pulled a face of disgust. "You are literally the most disgusting person I've ever met," I commented. Dean winked at me and continued.

"Maybe you got a thing for her, huh? Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

"Did I mention you're disgusting?" I interrupted.

"Did I mention you're a loser?" Dean retorted quickly. Sam couldn't help his smile.

"Do me a favor. Check and see if there's a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts. And see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol," Sam requested insistently. "And I'm gonna watch Meg."

Dean sniggered. "Yeah you are." I burst out in laughter, trying to cover it behind my hand.

"I just want to see what's what you know, better safe than sorry!" Sam countered immediately, still smiling despite Dean's torture.

"All right you little pervert, have fun," Dean jested. Dean and I cackled and started to walk away, Dean pushing lightly on the small of my back.

"You are _awful_!" I wailed, still sniggering.

~o~

Back in the hotel room, Dean and I took on our own separate research project. He did as Sam suggested and looked up a certain Meg Masters from Andover while I hunted for any information on the strange sign that my brothers had found. Dean had plenty more luck than I did. He dug out files on her and even her high school yearbook photo, letting us know that she really did exist. Funny how things turn out.

As for the symbol, I had to call Dad's friend Caleb to get anything worth noting on that. All I knew is that it was ancient and pre-dated Christ. Caleb fortunately did know something about it. He told us it was ancient Zoroastrian and was a sigil for something called a Daeva. Turns out these Daevas were nasty little demons. Even worse, the fuckers were being controlled by something. Something much more powerful. Now we just had to figure out what.

Dean snapped the phone shut after ending a phone call to Sam—well, Sam kinda hung up since Dean was harassing him about Meg again. Rubbing my eyes, I pulled out the files of the two victims these Daevas had slaughtered. I studied them closely.

"You know, I don't really think staring at it is gonna give us any more dirt, Luce," Dean jested, popping open a beer and taking a sip. I rolled my eyes and smiled up at my brother.

"I'm not staring…I'm trying to find a connection," I replied. Dean didn't reply and rather lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. My eyes flicked over the files, brows furrowed in concentration. And suddenly, I saw it. A certain name caught my attention.

"Oh my god," I whisper. Dean shot up.

"What?" he questioned curiously.

"Oh, we are screwed."

~o~

When Sam returned to our hotel room, we all had news to tell each other. Sam started with his. Turns out 'innocent' Meg was the one summoning the Daeva—at least according to Sam. He saw her perform some kind of ritual or something, and apparently there was gross stuff like human hearts involved. I don't even want details.

Dean and I informed Sam of our recent discovery next. The connection between the victims that I discovered while searching those files freaked me out. Both victims had seemingly nothing in common—except for the fact that they both originated from Lawrence, Kansas. Just like us. And that was _not_ a coincidence.

"That's where everything started," Sam noted. "So, you two think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

"I think it's a definite possibility," Dean answered, nodding. A sudden thought bloomed in my mind, making me gasp.

"Guys," I announced, "what if Meg _is_ the demon?"

Dean automatically shook his head. "She can't be. I mean, we found her file and everything; she's completely normal. Well, normal excluding her most recent demonic hobbies." I sighed. I guess he was right. "But whatever this is and whatever she's up to—I can tell you one thing. I don't think we should do this alone."

~o~

Dean snapped his phone closed after a "phone call" with Dad. Like always, Dean only got his voicemail. I kinda figured that Dad wouldn't answer, but it was always worth a shot. The whole bed I was sitting on shook as Sam tossed an overloaded duffel bag onto it. The bag was loaded with everything we could possibly need while dealing with—whatever it was we were dealing with.

The three of us silently grabbed for our weapons and began to load them up; gun after gun. I dug my lucky silver knife from the bag, twirling it in my hand for a moment before shoving it into a safekeeping pocket of my jeans I had stitched on.

"Big night," Dean said, glancing up at Sam and I. I smirked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You guys nervous?"

"Nope," Dean and I chorused. Dean added, "Why, are you?"

"No, no way." We returned to our weapons, finishing off the last of them and looking them over for any faulty ones. Sam was the one to break the silence. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing—that demon?"

I frowned at my brother slightly, while Dean let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Come on Sam, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Dean advised. A corner of Sam's lip twitched upward and he seemed to have entered a dream world of some sort. I didn't like where this was going.

"I know, I'm just saying…what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight?" Sam inquired in a pensive voice. I shifted uncomfortably and interrupted.

"I don't know, honey. It's kinda hard to imagine it. I mean, this has been going on for so long."

Sam seemed to have barely heard me. He continued, "Man, I'd sleep for a month…I'd go back to school, just be a person again."

That's what I was afraid of hearing. Every movement I was making ceased, and I felt a lump form in my throat. I stared down at the gun in my hands, desperately holding back what I wanted to say. I didn't look up to see either of my brothers' expressions.

"You want to go back to school?" I heard Dean ask. He sounded uncomfortable as well, and I bit down on the inside of my lip, the force almost splitting the skin.

"Well, yeah, once we're done hunting this thing." Sam's voice was optimistic and hopeful. He made it out as if it was obvious he was going to leave. As if it didn't matter to him at all that it would tear me apart. As if he didn't care on how severely it ripped me to pieces when he did it the first time. "Is there a problem with that?"

Dean fiddled with weapons in his hands, trying to sound nonchalant. "No, no it's great. Good for you."

"What are you guys gonna do when it's all over?" I held back a scoff.

"It's never gonna be over," Dean voiced my exact thoughts. "There's always gonna be others. There will always be something else to hunt." They were both silent for a moment. I hadn't moved an inch since Sam blurted that he intended to return to Stanford after all of this. That he wanted to leave us again.

Finally, Sam noticed. "Lucy?" I didn't look up. "Hey, you okay? …Luce, hey!"

I snapped. "Really?" I piped darkly. "You're just gonna leave? After everything?"

Sam's face scrunched up a bit, appearing to be legitimately confused by my outburst. "Well," he pondered, "yeah. What's your problem, Luce?" I tossed my gun down on the bed, fuming.

"My _problem_," I began, growling out my words, "is that _for once_, it'd be real nice if you'd stop trying to leave us at every chance you get, Sam!" Sam spoke again, trying to reason with me, but I cut him off immediately. My voice was gradually rising in volume.

"No, you listen to me Samuel John Winchester! You have been doing this ever since I was little! You and Dean and Dad? You guys—and Uncle Bobby—are the _only_ people I rely on in this whole world! You guys are my everything. Do you understand how badly it hurt me when you left, Sam? It _ripped me apart_. How long did I cry for, Dean? _Two days_? I mean, how could you do that to me, Sammy? To _all_ of us?" My lower lip trembled. "Is it really that bad of a thing to be with your family?"

Before Sam could get a word in, I turned on my heel and left the hotel room, slamming the door behind me. I stomped over to where the Impala was sitting, jumping up on the hood and crossing my legs. I was surprised at myself, and I was already experiencing the regretful side effects of my little episode. I sighed frustrated, running both of my hands through my long hair.

That was stupid.

I had been holding that back for a long time—ever since Sam ventured off to college in the first place. I had this tendency to bottle up all my emotions for the sake of peacekeeping and sometimes I just couldn't help it…I snapped. But really though? Why was Sam so desperate to leave us? Were we really that bad of a family that it made him that eager? God, what a thick, uncaring, selfish asshole!

But then I paused…and I mentally slapped myself. Was_ I_ really that selfish? Sam...I hate to say this, but he's always been the black sheep in the family. Simply for desiring to be normal. For daring to be something other than a hunter. But you know what? It made him happy. When Dean and I first pulled up to Sam's apartment all those months ago, and I saw him for the first time in four years…that was the happiest I'd ever seen him. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do. He was in a stable relationship…he was in freaking law school! That's something I never thought a Winchester would end up doing.

It hurt, I wasn't going to deny that. My brothers and I…I don't think any of us were going to be content with whatever the end of this shit brought. And that frustrated me to no end.

Someone was approaching me. Whether it was Dean or Sam, I didn't know. But I do know that I needed to apologize to Sam. My big brother was thick sometimes…but he still deserved whatever made him happy; even if it dismayed the rest of us.

"Hey," came Sam's gentle voice. He took a seat right beside me on the hood of the car. I looked up at my brother, hoping he would see the apologetic look in my eyes. He sighed. "I'm so sorry, Luce—"

"No," I interjected quickly. "No, back there? That was really selfish of me. You—you need to do whatever makes you happy. It, um…it doesn't really matter what me, or Dean, or Dad think, okay? It's your life." But Sam shook his head.

"Yeah, but…Lucy," Sam attempted, throwing a hand down in frustration. He sighed once more. "You really cried over me for two days?" I breathed a soft chuckle.

"I was 15, I—"I murmured. "Look, it doesn't matter…" Sam grabbed my arm gently, turning me so I was facing him.

"Honestly, I—I had no idea I hurt you that much," Sam begged genuinely. I stared into my brother's hazel eyes. "I was 18, I was pissed with Dad and I…I didn't _think_. Shit, I'm…I'm really, really sorry, Luce." A tiny, half-hearted smile formed on my face. I scooted closer to my brother and pulled him towards me. I wrapped my arms around his torso in a tight hug, burying my face in his shoulder. He rubbed my back soothingly.

"It's okay, you big emotional dork," I mumbled into his shoulder. I felt his body shake in a quiet chuckle. He released me with a big handsome smile blooming on his face.

"Hey, when this is all over, and if I end up back at Stanford," he started, "we're keeping in touch this time. None of that four years apart bullshit. No, we're gonna meet up at least once a week, you hear me?" A loud laugh bubbled to the surface at my brother's insistent promises. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and added, "You know I love you right?"

I grinned, sharing an affectionate look with my older dorky brother.

"I know, Sammy. I love you too."

~o~

**Winchester family feels (****ﾉ◕ヮ◕****)****ﾉ*****:****･ﾟ✧**


	6. Dad, the Demon and the Daevas

**This is definitely the longest chapter of them all so far, with over 5,000 words! I'm really proud of this one, I worked really hard on it! Hope you enjoy! Cause the next one probably won't be up until after Monday :(**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy.**

**~o~**

**Chapter 6  
Dad, the Demon and the Daevas**

My brothers and I climbed the old rusty bars of an elevator shaft in this abandoned creepy warehouse building that my brother dragged Dean and me to. With Sam taking the lead, we pulled ourselves to the top where there was a half empty floor. The lone occupant of this warehouse was of course Meg. There she was, right before our eyes, performing her ritual or summoning thing—just like Sam had told us.

Sam nodded at us once, and pulled himself up between the opening in the bars quietly. Dean followed him swiftly and with a sharp yank, I was the last one up. My brothers and I retrieved our guns, aiming them at the girl's back. We seemed to have made it past her without her knowledge. Rapidly, we darted behind some stacked boxes, making sure our gaze never left Meg's turned back. Sam and Dean promptly switched their guns, focusing them on her.

I have no idea how she did it, but Meg noticed. "Guys," she called without turning around. "Hiding is a little bit childish, don't you think?" I scowled, dropping my pistol to my side.

"Well that didn't work out like I planned," Dean whispered irately.

"Yeah, you think?" I muttered. Meg finally turned around with a smug smirk crossing her face.

"Why don't you come out?" she prompted with a pseudo sweetness to her voice. Cautiously and reluctantly, my brothers and I stood from our crouched position. Our guns never wavered from Meg as we advanced towards her. "Sam I have to say this puts a real crimp in our relationship," she noted mockingly. I gritted my teeth.

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, tell me about it," Sam snapped.

"Where's your little Daeva friend?" Dean inquired coldly. Meg's eyes darted around the room and her taunting smile grew a little wider.

"Around." My eyes narrowed a little bit more. "And that shotgun's not gonna do much good."

"Believe it or not, we're not stupid," I bit, raising my pistol a little higher. "But guess what, honey? The guns ain't for the demons. Now, you're gonna tell us who you're waiting for. Who's coming?"

The corner of Meg's lips rose a bit higher as her eyes fell upon Sam. "You."

I frowned and placed my finger on the trigger of my pistol, preparing to shoot. Suddenly, Sam's shotgun was slammed to the ground by something we couldn't even see, besides its dark black shadow on the wall. I froze in shock as Sam was roughly shoved to the ground. Dumb move on my part.

My gun was also knocked from my hands. Before I could register what was occurring, something lifted me clear off the ground and tossed me back. I crashed headfirst into the rusty iron bars of the elevator shaft, banging my head harshly against them. I whirled around slowly, as that was the extent of the movement my body would allow me. I felt warm liquid slide down the bridge of my nose.

The last thing I saw was Dean fly across the room and smash into a pile of crates. I didn't even get the chance to search for my other brother before my head was grabbed between two cold hands and slammed back against the iron bars once again. I blacked out immediately.

~o~

"_Lucy."_

_The soft voice was barely a breath._

"…_Lucy?"_

_There it was again. Only slightly louder this time._

"_You have to wake up, Lucy."_

_The voice I was hearing. Surely it wasn't a dream. The voice was that of a man's…and I could have sworn I had heard it before._

"_You hear me? You have to wake up. You will be fine…I'm always with you."_

I regained consciousness with a start. I kept my eyes shut, attempting to recall the voice I had just heard. Though it was the first time I had ever dreamt about a voice calling out to me, it was just so tremendously familiar. With a start, I realized I felt something grazing my face. It was an extremely light touch, almost ticklish. I blinked a few times before opening my eyes entirely.

My green eyes met the big dark brown of Meg's eyes. I jumped when I realized she was hovering over me, grinning hugely while she stroked the side of my face. I tried to leap away from her touch, before finding my arms and legs tied forcefully with sturdy rope wrapped around a pillar. I gritted my teeth and met her eyes with a glare of determination, and she chuckled evilly.

"Get off me," I spat at her, squirming around in my bindings. I felt more blood stream down the deep cut on my forehead from the effort. She pretended to appear hurt, moving her hand deep into my messy hair. I sneered.

"Come on, baby," she tempted smoothly. "Don't be like that. You even said yourself…I'm an 8?"

I didn't even want to know how she heard me say that. She was practically in my lap by now, but luckily, Sam chose that moment to startle awake. Meg turned her head sharply when she heard him gasping. Dean rustled awake only moments after that. I huffed out a breath I wasn't aware of holding when Meg moved off of me to smile at Sam.

"Sam," Dean started loudly. Sam and I both faced him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend…is a bitch!"

"Called it," I announced.

"This, the whole thing," Sam moaned, "was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here…hearing what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn't it?" Meg interrupted him with a villainous laugh.

"What about the victims?" I hissed. Meg beamed in my direction. "They were all from Lawrence, like us. What was that about?"

Meg bubbled, "It doesn't mean anything! It was just to draw you in, that's all."

"You killed those two people for nothing," Sam snarled in response, to which Meg only giggled cheerfully.

"Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less."

I propped my head back against the pillar. "Oh you twisted bitch."

Meg approached me once again, climbing over me. "You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, sugar, it's making me all tingly inside." I squirmed trying to push her off, but she was stronger. Holding me in place, she turned her attention back to my brothers.

"You trapped us. Good for you. It's Miller time," Dean joked sarcastically. "But why don't you kill us already?"

Meg returned her eyes back to me, where I was snarling at her. Dragging a single finger across the side of my face, she boasted, "Not very quick on the uptake, are we? This trap isn't for you." Dean became puzzled by her words. I was too occupied with glaring her down to really consider what she had said. Ultimately, it was Sam who figured it out.

"Dad," Sam breathed. "It's a trap for Dad." I had started to whirl my head around to face Sam in shock, but Meg grabbed my chin, forcing me to see her once again. Dean, however, chuckled and shook his head.

"Oh, sweetheart—you're dumber than you look," Dean laughed. "'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good."

"And you sure as hell better leave him alone," I barked furiously. Meg snapped a finger to my lips and smiled as she trailed it down to my chin seductively.

"He is pretty good. I'll give you that," she agreed, glancing momentarily at Dean. "But you see…he has one weakness." She refocused on my face, her fingers trailing slowly under my chin and tapping the surface there. The hungry way she was leering at me was making me feel sick.

Dean was the one to answer her. "What's that?"

"You," she answered quickly, getting closer to my face. "He lets his guard down around his kids. Lets his emotions cloud his judgment." If possible, she got even closer, so that her lips were almost grazing against mine when she spoke. I leaned back as far as I possibly could. "I happen to know he is in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy…"

She narrowed her eyes at me before transitioning fluidly, "You know, I should have set my sights on you, Lucy…You're the prettiest." The sound that escaped my mouth was a mixture between a scoff and a chuckle.

"Honey, you have gotta work on your pick up lines," I shot back, sneering. Meg only smiled wider.

"I've got news for you," Dean broke in, trying to distract the evil young woman. "It's gonna take a lot more than some…shadow to kill him."

"Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see."

Sam shook his head against the pillar he was attached to. "Why are you doing this, Meg?" he questioned her. "What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?"

Meg glowered at my brother and snapped, "I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do—loyalty. Love." A million thoughts and theories flickered through my brain. It all came back to the same conclusion. She was a demon—why else would she be 'loyal' to them? She paused, her stare locked on Sam. "Like the love you had for Mommy—and Jess."

"Go to hell," Sam dared calmly. Meg beamed, as if this was exactly the response she had been hoping to hear.

"Baby, I'm already there." At long last, she abandoned her straddle on my lap. In fact, she broke off all contact from me whatsoever and crawled right on her knees over to Sam. Placing herself in his lap, she brought her mouth up close to his ear. "There's no need to be nasty, Sam. I think we both know how you really feel about me." My nose scrunched up in disgust.

"You know," Meg continued sweetly, "I saw you…watching me…changing in my apartment. It turned you on, didn't it?" I glowered at them in revulsion, trying desperately to get that image out of my head.

"Get a room you two," Dean retorted, with a roll of his eyes. I paused for a moment, furrowing my eyebrows.

"You watched her _change_?" I wondered judgmentally. He offered me no answer, but rather shot bitchface #19304 at me. From next to me, I heard Dean quietly shuffling. Shooting a quick glance at him when Meg had returned flirting with Sam, I noticed him attempting to shake the knife in his sleeve out into his hand. Mine was still stuffed into my pocket and unreachable.

When Meg placed her slimy mouth on my brother's neck, I felt a wave of fury wash over me. "Get off him!" I growled, and the strangest thing happened. Heat started to build up around my hands and wrists. I almost believed I had caught on fire or something! But then…the bindings around my wrists suddenly snapped. And I was free.

Meg hadn't taken note of my unexpected freedom, and I insured that she didn't detect it. Her smile directed towards me was sickeningly sweet. "Don't worry, baby," she coaxed, "you're next." Giggling at my sneer, she returned to Sam. I kept my hands in place, not wanting to ruin this chance. If my brothers found some way to get free, then I would attack.

I flinched when a clattering noise came from Dean's direction. Observing him, I saw the knife in his hand—but it was too late. His escape hadn't slipped past Meg and she looked up from Sam's next to see which one of us the noise came from. She climbed off of Sam, and strutted over to Dean. Fortunately, she passed me without a check, so she didn't notice my free hands.

While she was distracted by Dean, Sam and I immediately looked to each other. He gestured down to his hands. He was holding his own knife, and had already cut almost all the way through the rope. I then tempted him to peer down at my hands. I saw his eyes widen as he realized I was already free. Meeting each other's eyes, he mouthed, 'on my lead'. I nodded once, sharply.

Swiftly, Meg moved back to Sam, whispering in his ear, "Now were you just trying to distract me while you brother cuts free?" Sam shook his head.

"No," he denied, allowing her to get close to him. "No, it was because I have a knife of my own, and my sister's already free." His rope snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders before she could react, and harshly head butted her. She was knocked backwards. Sam gasped and clutched his head in pain, but still stood and rushed over to the altar. I also stood, taking a slight moment to examine the ropes that I had been tied with. They were…burnt?

I wasn't going to worry about it now. I had something more important on my mind. I stumbled over to where Meg was laying, struggling to get up. I stared down at her determinedly, and she didn't move as she waited for me to do something—anything. I whispered a single word.

"Christo."

My belief was confirmed. Meg gasped in shock, slightly spasming. She stared up at me with cold, fully black eyes. Her expression turned furious while a proud smirk grew on my face. Meg Masters was a demon. I was _right_.

We were both snapped from this revelation when we heard a loud crash from the other side of the room. Like Dean had ordered, Sam flipped the table containing Meg's makeshift altar over. The contents smashed to the ground and spilled all over the floor. Meg's eyes returned to their normal brown colour and she watched with utter terror.

The daevas gained a new focus—Meg. They shot towards her with shrill screeches. Meg was grabbed by the ankles and yanked across the room, dragging on her stomach. In the end, she was shoved out the window, shattering the thin glass. With shock, I heard her scream as she dropped.

Picking up his knife and cutting Dean free, Sam looked up at me. "You keep your knife in your pocket. How did you cut free?" he asked me inquisitively. I didn't answer for a moment, gazing at my older brothers.

"I didn't." Dean stood, his face laced in confusion. Sam, however, gave me a knowing look. I changed the subject fluidly, moving with my brothers to the window. Meg was sprawled on the ground with blood pooling around her head. Even so, knowing she was a demon made me question whether she was actually dead.

"Daevas apparently don't like being bossed around," I commented, in an effort to switch the subject off of me.

"No I guess not," Dean agreed. "Hey Sam," he added, "next time you want to get laid. How about not picking a girl who's buckets of crazy, huh?" I couldn't help it; I cackled. Sam rolled his eyes and I patted his shoulder.

"I second that, Tiger," I chuckled.

~o~

Our surprises for the day weren't over. My brothers and I cautiously headed back to our hotel room after; making sure no random bystander would notice our substantial injuries we had acquired from the daevas. Sam lugged the bag containing our hunting supplies on his shoulder. The 'better safe than sorry' approach was smart for this situation.

We entered the hotel room, playfully bickering with each other. Dean cut off mid-sentence and froze in the doorway. I followed the direction of his eyes and was startled by a dark figure standing near the window. None of us could see his face. I whipped out my knife at the speed of light.

"Hey!" Dean shouted. I raised my knife higher and took on a threatening stance after realizing I was the only one armed with a weapon. Sam reached for the lights and flicked them on. Slowly, the figure turned around. My jaw dropped as his face came into the light.

I didn't waste a second. My knife dropped from my hand and clattered to the floor as I bolted across the room. I threw my arms around my father, feeling the most enormous sense of relief. Dad squeezed me to him, stroking my hair lovingly.

I released him, still not fully letting go and beaming up at him emotionally. Dad smiled down at me with watery eyes, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "Where the hell have you been, Daddy?" I whispered, my voice trembling and tears building in my eyes. His smile dropped a fraction of an inch.

"I'll explain everything later, Lucy Bean," Dad replied gently. I accepted this answer reluctantly, and completely released him so my brothers could have a chance to greet him. Dean latched onto him tightly, also fighting tears. They didn't free their hold for a long moment. Sam, however, did not hug Dad like Dean and I had. He merely greeted him softly. There was still plenty of unresolved issues there…and I hope they didn't come up now.

"Dad," Dean started regretfully, "it was a trap. I didn't know. I-I'm sorry."

Dad offered him a smile. "It's all right. I thought it might have been."

"You…didn't show up did you?" I asked worriedly. I didn't want him in harm's way. He looked up at me and nodded.

"I did. I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy right?"

The corner of my mouth twitched slightly. Yeah, she was only a freaking demon. "Yes, sir," my brothers and I chorused. Dad nodded with a smile.

"Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before. It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell, actually kill it," Dad explained. A lump formed in my throat. I was still a bit angry at my Dad. This wasn't just his fight alone like he seemed to believe it was. I wanted to assist him. I wanted to kill this demon also.

"How?" Dean asked, astounded.

Dad grinned. "I'm working on that." My lips twitched into a small smile.

"Let us come with you—we'll help!" Sam persisted. I secretly felt the same way that he did—well, maybe not to the same level of frustration. Dean shot Sam a look of warning.

"No, Sam," Dad rejected quietly, shaking his head. "Not yet. Listen, try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt—"

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us," Sam interrupted persistently. This time it was me who glowered at him in warning. We did not need another fight right now…I don't think I could handle it. But somewhere in my mind, I felt entitled to speak up as well.

"I want to help too. Dad," I begged, "this isn't just your fight! This is all of us—"

"I am _not_ putting you in danger!" Dad commanded with a gentle tone still in his voice. An expression of hopelessness and defeat crossed my face. "I'm not putting any of you in danger…I'm your father." Dad's eyes flickered over to Sam sympathetically. "Listen Sammy…last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

Dad paused for a long time, taking a while to just examine and grin at Sam. "It's good to see you. It's been a long time," Dad finally choked out. Sam agreed before reaching over and grabbing Dad into a tight embrace. I leaned my head against Dean's shoulder. Tears clouded my vision and dripped down my cheeks as I watched my brother and Dad. For once, everything felt happy…normal even.

I spoke too soon.

Dad was abruptly flung across the room by another invisible force—I assumed the daevas. I gasped in horror as he crashed against the counters of our hotel room and smashed to the floor. I started to rush to his side, but the force yanked me backward and slammed me to the ground. Claws ripped the skin on my right cheek all the way down to the top of my lip and I shrieked in distress. The potent taste of blood filled my mouth and I spat a glob out before I could choke on it.

The sounds of struggle filled the room. All four of us were being viciously attacked by these demons that clearly outnumbered and surpassed us in strength. I heard my Dad cry out in utter agony as well as my brothers being beaten and thrown about in the room. Gritting my teeth, I attempted to use my elbows to slide over to one of them—any of them. But the demons were too powerful.

A painful kick was delivered to my side, forcing me to roll over onto my back. Marks were lashed across my chest, causing blood to flow down and stain my white tank top. Still, I struggled and fought, though it did no use. My resistance earned me three more slashes from my hairline and—fortunately—halted just above my left eye. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to prevent blood flooding into them. Searching the room, my eyes met Dean and I reached for him.

The demons suddenly seemed to have directed their full attention to our Dad. Even as Dean raced over to my side and hauled me into an agonizing sitting position, they didn't attack us. But Dad was under complete assault and I felt nauseous from worry. There had to be a way to stop this!

"Shut your eyes!" Sam yelled to all of us. He held a flare in his hands. Smart Sammy! "These things are shadow demons! So let's light 'em up!" He rapidly lit it and tossed it to the floor. Dean pulled me against him tightly, assuring that he buried my eyes against his chest. He hid his own eyes against me. Sharp screams came from the demons, and they instantly vanished.

Sputtering, I peeked out from Dean's chest…and I was stunned to realize that I could distinguish everything absolutely fine. My vision was almost perfect even with the smoke and blinding light that still lingered. Dean kept a hold on me as we both stumbled up. His eyes were still shut, as well as Sam's.

"Guys! I can see!" I shouted to them. Releasing Dean, I hustled to my Dad's side and I lugged him up. "Over here!" Sam fumbled towards us, and I grabbed his hand, helping him locate us. Dean stood ahead of us, groping for the door handle. I pulled my Dad and brother along, grabbing for Dean as soon as I caught up with him.

Together we scuttled out of the building, all clinging to each other fiercely. We clambered down the step and finally reached the Impala. Sam wasted no time in throwing the back door of the Impala open eagerly. The other three of us stumbled against the car resignedly. "That flare's not gonna last long and as soon as it runs out, they'll be back." I concurred and began to move towards the open door.

"Wait, wait! Sam, Lucy, wait," Dean cautioned hastily. I furrowed my eyebrows at my oldest brother, waiting for him to explain. "Dad, you can't come with us." I huffed exasperatedly.

"Dean?" I said shakily and hopelessly. Somehow I already knew where this conversation was going. That doesn't mean I wouldn't deny it like hell though.

"What are you talking about?" Sam sputtered.

"You kids," Dad started, his gaze flickering between my brothers and I, "you're beat to hell. Look at you," he added, wiping a bit of blood from my lip. My face was more torn up than my brothers' and was nearly completely coated in a thick layer of blood. I shook my head, resistant.

"I'm fine, Dad," I uttered. To be honest, no, I wasn't. I was sore and my face and chest felt like they were in flames. But I swallowed my misery down in sake of my family.

"Dean," Sam insisted, perturbed. "We should stick together, those demons are—"

"Sam, listen to me!" Dean yelled, forcing Sam to listen to him carefully. He calmed his voice substantially. "We almost got dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again, they're gonna use us to get to him." A single tear fell from my eye as I understood my brother was right. I leaned into my father dependently. "I mean Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He…he's stronger without us around."

In a rush of defiance, I growled, "It doesn't matter what that bitch demon said." My family all turned to face me with a mixture of confusion and surprise.

"You think that girl was a demon, Lucy?" Dad questioned me, placing a hand on my arm softly. I nodded firmly.

"I _know _she was. I saw it. The black eyes and everything," I explained bitterly. Meeting my brothers' eyes, I continued, "And that thing she was saying about her loyalty and love or whatever. It makes sense—she could be associated with…with _the_ demon." My Dad and brothers absorbed what I had said, realizing that I could be right.

"I'm not saying you're not right, Luce, but," Dean started, "let's just not get ahead of ourselves, alright? This is…this is important. We gotta think this out." I sighed, and nodded in agreement.

"Which we should do together!" Sam continued persistently. He placed a hand on Dad's shoulder. "After everything, after all the time we spent looking for you, please. I've got to be a part of this fight." Dad covered Sam's hand with his own comfortingly. He stared him in the eyes ruefully.

"Sammy, this fight is just starting, and we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay? You've got to let me go." Sam fought the tears that started to form in his eyes.

"Daddy…" I whimpered in a fleeting attempt that I know would be rejected. Dad pulled me to him, and kissed the top of my head lovingly. Tears streamed down my face. Sam's hand remained on Dad's shoulder; with his free hand, he grabbed mine. I clutched it securely.

Dad exchanged a melancholy glance with my oldest brother, nodding at him. Dad gave me a final gentle squeeze around my shoulders and released both Sam and me. Sam and I kept our hands latched together snugly, watching our Dad return to his truck. Dean sauntered over to us, standing as close as possible. I leaned against him.

Dad turned back to us siblings remorsefully. The three of us stared back desolately, clinging onto each other in condolence. "Be careful, kids," he told us and hopped into his truck. Dad's ripped off into the night as Dean ushered Sam and I inside the Impala and I couldn't help but wonder if that was the last time I'd ever see him. I tried not to think that way—but hey, I'm a pessimist.

~o~

It was late in the night, possibly even into the early hours of the morning. My brothers and I sped down an empty highway not sure exactly where we were heading…just driving. I had been considering my words for most of the drive. I didn't want them to fret over me—but they were my brothers, my family. They deserved to know the truth…right?

"Weird things are happening to me guys."

Startled, both of my brothers glanced back at me. We had been silent for over an hour and my speech was unexpected. "Um what—what do you mean, Luce?" Sam inquired curiously.

"Hate to break it to you, Bean, but weird things are kinda our thing," Dean joked. I sighed, irritated.

"_No_, Dean, I meant," I paused, lowering my voice into a whisper, "weird for us. Look…I heard this voice. When Meg and the daevas knocked us unconscious, there was this voice. And the thing is…I've heard it before. I've been hearing it...my whole life." Sam gazed at me while I spoke, furrowing his eyebrows in puzzlement and concern. Dean glanced at me only through the mirror, wearing a similar expression to Sam.

I ran a hand through my hair and cut off anything my brothers were about to say. "Look—I lied about something. I…I remember a few things. From _that night_." Sam's eyes widened.

"What? Luce—how is that possible? You were a day old. I was three and I don't remember anything," Sam babbled, shaking his head. I shrugged at him and met Dean's eyes in the mirror. He was speechless—all this time he was convinced that he was the only one with memory of that day.

"I don't know, Sammy. I don't," I assured, mimicking his movements. "But, look…I remember the heat and the flames. _Barely_, but…I remember. Um, I remember a blinding white light and I still have no idea what that was. And guys." I gulped before telling them my subsequent memory. "I remember that voice I heard today and…a face. A guy's face that wasn't Dad or you, Dean. I-I can't really see the face in my memory but…it's there."

My brothers were shocked and wordless. They pondered over my words and I fiddled with my hair nervously. Dean swallowed and said, "I-I don't know what to tell you, Lucy. That's—pretty big news there." I nodded along with him, biting my slightly swollen and sore lip. "I don't know what's going on, okay. I don't have the slightest clue what shit we're dealing with here, between Sam's freaky futurama thing and…and now your memories and spidey-powers. But…we're gonna be okay, alright? All of us. We're together and we're gonna be there for each other."

Dean glanced back at me, and I gave him a loving smile. Sam reached for my hand and tugged me up to the middle front seat. There, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his shoulder. Dean grabbed my hand, using his free hand to steer. With the comfort of my older brothers beside me, I was able to drift off to a relaxed sleep.

~o~

**Ahh. I just really like this one okay!**


	7. All Together Now

**I was a bit stuck on this chapter for a bit and I'm not really sure if I liked the way it turned out. But oh well! There's Winchester family stuff in here so squeee :) **

**Also, I created a side blog for this story and my Harry Potter story. The link is erinpaigeandhercharacters . tumblr . com –obviously without the spaces. But pictures of Lucy will be on there, as well as her outfits and other stuff like that. The link will also be on my profile :)**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

** ~o~  
Chapter 7  
All Together Now**

Nearly four months had passed since my brothers and I last encountered our father. We, of course, had not heard a word from him. All contact was temporarily severed in order to avoid the conflict that lay ahead. In early June, we found this job up in Richardson, Texas where kids would enter a haunted house and one victim would never escape alive. It was one of the weirdest cases we'd dealt with in a while.

We met these two guys around Sam's age—Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddemore—who self-titled themselves as 'professional' ghost hunters. Hah! That was a joke. They were in charge of a website called (get this) 'Hell Hound's Lair dot com' and supposedly hunted down ghosts and brought them to so-called justice. Yeah, not so much. They were only a pair of bragging, self-righteous nerds who didn't know the slightest thing about the paranormal. Plus, Ed, the redheaded one with glasses, constantly kept hitting on me…yeah, sorry buddy! Not my type!

"Never call me an amateur again," I huffed at them both after beat the tulpa (who turned out to be the spirit in the house) down temporarily. The two guys stared at me in shock, mouths open wide. I had started to strut away to help my brothers when I heard Ed say in admiration:

"I think I'm in love, man. She's just like Buffy…" Whatever the hell that meant.

But anyways, we scorched that son a bitch tulpa and moved on to our next hunt with ease. That was all we could do for now. I wouldn't deny that each day felt anxiety-ridden. Anxiety with waking up and not knowing if that was the day we were going to reconnected with Dad, or if something even stranger was going to ensue to Sam or me. Lately, there had been no occurrences between the two of us…but I was just anticipating something to come about that would flip everything around.

We dealt with a shtriga in mid-September up in Wisconsin. The way this creature lived was disgusting! It enjoyed sucking the life out of little children to extend its own. There were at least six nearly dead children just when we arrived! My brothers and I were able to save them all and kill the monster. Both Dad and Dean were the most determined to waste it. Apparently, they had encountered it years back.

Oh and then Sammy got a girlfriend! Okay, well…not really. But he did really like her. Her name was Sarah Blake and we met when we worked a case concerning a creepy ass haunted painting. She, to put it lightly, was a complete badass. If it wasn't for our life, it'd be cool having her around. But I digress…that wasn't possible for us Winchesters.

~o~

_August 24-25, 1990_

_Dean was in charge of his two little siblings for the time being. Their father had been away on a hunt for about 3 days, and Dean was growing tired of being cooped up in a small motel with his kid brother and toddler sister. He'd do anything to watch over them and protect them—but for a 10 year old, it was tedious._

"'_Ghetties!" 3 year old Lucy piped up, bouncing in her seat. She held up her bowl eagerly._

"_No, put it down Lucy, you're going to spill it on yourself," Dean ordered her._

"_Am not!" the little girl whined, but set it down anyway. Her oldest brother poured her favorite dish into it. When Dean was forced to give up his favorite Lucky Charms to 6 year old Sam, she offered him some of her dinner. He couldn't help but smile at his little sister._

_Sunday night, Dean snuck out of the motel, double checking that his little brother and sister were sound asleep in their bed. Nearly two hours later, a small tap sounded from the window. Little Lucy woke with a start. The 3 year old glanced around the room and her eyes caught on the window. Her big green eyes widened as she saw a cloaked figure climbing in._

_Whimpering, she yanked the sheets up close to her eyes and snuggled closer to her big brother. She figured if she squeezed her eyes shut it would disappear. Hearing the front door of the motel open, she decided to poke one eye open, figuring it was her Dad or her brother coming to rescue her. But instead, she saw the figure again. Giant, dark, ugly and hovering right over her and Sam._

_Lucy shrieked when it darted for her. But it seemed to miss. A bright, glowing light was surrounding the small girl in a layer of protection against the malevolent creature. Instead, it decided on her brother. Lucy screamed again when it grabbed Sammy and put its disgusting mouth over him. Suddenly, it hissed. Looking up, she saw Dean pointing a shotgun at the monster, but he appeared as if he was frozen._

_The siblings' Dad finally showed up and shot the monster several times. The creature wailed and leaped through the bedroom window, shattering the glass. John rushed to his youngest children. He set his daughter on his lap and held her to his shoulder, and cradled Sam._

"_Daddy!" Lucy squeaked and clung to her father._

"_Dad, what's going on?" Sammy mumbled sleepily. John didn't answer his youngest son and rather turned accusingly to his oldest._

"_What happened?" he demanded._

_Dean paused and answered guiltily, "I just went out…"_

"_What!"_

"_Just for a second, I'm sorry"_

"_I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let them out of your sight!"_

"_Don't fight," Lucy whimpered against her father's shoulder. He apologized to her, and soon after the family bolted from the motel. Lucy clung to her oldest brother the whole way and—partially out of fear and guilt—Dean never let go of her._

~o~

October 26, 2006

We picked up a trail in Dad's journal after the unsolved and unordinary death of a guy named Daniel Elkins in Manning, Colorado. His number with, respectively, a Colorado area code was jotted down within the pages and we assumed that it had to be the same guy. When we checked out his ransacked house, we uncovered and empty gun case, a journal that was extremely similar to Dad's and message carved into the floor.

The message turned out to be a combination to a post office box. More specifically, a mail drop box. Inside was a letter addressed to "J.W." Could it be? It seemed likely that our Dad and this man knew each other considering the related journals.

And that's when Dad decided to finally pop up again—literally out of nowhere, knocking on the window of the Impala. He sure scared the shit outta me! Dad told us that Elkins had a legendary gun in his possession. I think it was called the Colt. Yeah, that's what it was! This wasn't just your typical old gun—no, this gun could kill almost anything. Human, supernatural, just plain freaky—you name it! And apparently whatever murdered Elkins had stolen it, along with an innocent couple. Dad thought it was vampires...and he ended up being right!

At the moment, my family and I were speeding off down the highway in search of some sort of lead on the location of the vamps. They couldn't be far; the kidnapping incident with the couple was only about 20 minutes behind us or so. I sat criss-crossed in the passenger seat of Dad's truck, staring off into the dark. Ever since the beginning of this job, I could just feel the tension between my family (and by family I mean Sam and Dad) rising by the moment.

"Dad?" I piped in the silence. My father took a quick second to glance over at me.

"Yeah, honey?" he asked.

"Don't start anything with Sam, okay?" I pleaded. "I know he's a stubborn little shithead sometimes …most of the time…Point is, I don't want to see you two fight. I mean, it's been four years—I just want us to get along."

Dad considered my words, and sighed resignedly. "You know I don't want to fight with him. I want nothing more than the past to stay in the past. Sam…I can't control him, Bean. As you said, he's a stubborn little shithead. He's gonna say what he wants to say, do what he wants to do, just like he's always done. I hope it doesn't turn to that—to a fight."

At my unconvinced expression and my beseeching eyes, he sighed again, taking my hand in his. "I'll try my best." I was slightly more satisfied with this answer and redirected my eyes to the road.

Around 15 minutes later, Dad picked up on some sort of lead I failed to notice. He made a speedy phone call to Dean, ordering him to pull off onto the next exit. I have no idea what Dad saw, but I trusted his judgment. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same thing for everyone in the family. The Impala roared to life, darting directly in front of Dad and me, stopping us all in our tracks.

"You've got to be kidding me," I mumbled grumpily, hopping out of the car along with Dad. Sam trudged irritably out of the Impala, with Dean following reluctantly and cautiously behind. "What the hell, Sam?" I cried impetuously. Dad voiced practically the same question; however his tone was much angrier. Oh, here we go again. This is what I was dreading.

"We need to talk," Sam growled. He and Dad were standing extremely close, practically right in each others' faces. I situated myself alongside Dean nervously. "Where are we going Dad? What's the big deal about this job?"

"Sammy, come on," Dean interjected anxiously. "We can Q and A after we kill all the vampires."

"Your brother's right, we don't have time for this," Dad agreed hastily. But Sam wasn't finished quite yet. I repeat: stubborn little shithead.

"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue you need our help," Sam argued. His voice grew in volume with each word, and concurrently I felt my anxiety building up. "Obviously something big is going down and we wanna know what!"

"Get back in the car," Dad commanded.

"No."

"I said get back into the damn car."

"Yeah and I said no."

"_Sam_," I hissed through gritted teeth. Dean took that cue to push him pointedly away from Dad and attempted to reason with him. I grabbed Dad's arm, trying to lead him away. "Dad, please," I begged. Both Sam and Dad allowed themselves to be partially led away…that is until Sam had to open his big mouth again.

"This is why I left in the first place," I heard Sam mumble to Dean. I flinched and watched as my Dad turned around once more.

"What did you say?" Dad challenged. I tried to grab onto his sleeve in persistence and frustration, but he shrugged me off easily.

Sam whirled back around to face Dad. "You heard me," he glowered.

"Yeah. You left," Dad retorted accusingly with a glare. "Your brother and your sister and me—we needed you. _You_ walked away." I tried to ignore the fact that this was practically what I had lashed out against Sam about a few months ago. The lingering anger and betrayal I still suffered towards my brother. "_You walked away!"_

I whimpered as the argument accelerated into a full blown screaming match. Dean and I made a failing effort to be the peacekeepers…as usual. "You're the one who said don't come back, Dad," Sam shouted, "You closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!"

"Stop, please," I whimpered which was barely heard over their yelling. Dean, however, forced his way in-between Sam and Dad, forcing them to back away from each other. "That's enough!" he had exclaimed vigorously over them.

Sam and Dad breathed one last huff at each other and returned to their respective cars, both fuming. Dean and I were left standing in the middle of the cars, alone. Overwhelmed with frustration and fear and anxiety, I turned to glimpse at my oldest brother. He seemed to be in shock of what just happened. He met my eyes, shaking his head furiously.

"Terrific," he stated sardonically. "So…which one do you want to be with less?"

"Is there a third option?" I grumbled bitterly. The corner of my brother's lip twitched.

"Yeah, suicide," Dean commented, sauntering over to the passenger seat of the Impala. I snorted, and strolled and hopped into Dad's truck.

~o~

Strolling right into the vampire's nest turned out to not be so good of an idea. My family and I speculated that if we were silent and vigilant, we could sneak in, grab the Colt and leave without notice. But being the Winchesters, something went terribly wrong. We got discovered and had to ditch the nest, escaping without the Colt.

Plan B. We soaked some arrows in dead man's blood to use on Kate, one of the ring leaders. Dead man's blood wouldn't kill a vampire, but it was kinda like poison to them. Being that Kate was their leader's mate, we were hoping the leader and the rest of the clan were going in search for her. And hopefully while the blood poisoning was still in effect on Kate. Dean, Sam and I were going to free the people the vampires held hostage while Dad dealt with the vamps himself.

And we were running out of time. "A half hour ought to do it," Sam commented.

Dad nodded. "And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can," he said. My brothers and I looked up quickly and in disbelief. He was crazy if he thought we were going to let him confront an entire nest of vampires on his own!

"What? No, Dad," I reasoned, "There's a whole bunch of them. You can't take them on by yourself!"

"I'll have her," Dad replied, gesturing to the still poisoned Kate, who we had tied to a tree. "And the Colt." I shook my head slightly.

"But what about after?" Sam inquired uncertainly. "We're gonna meet up right? Use the gun together. Right?" I quirked an eyebrow at my father, as if to ask the same question.

Dad was silent for an extended amount of time and I realized what his answer was prior to him voicing it. He remained intent on hunting the demon himself. You got to be joking.

Sam picked up on this as well and accused, "You're leaving again aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone." Sam scoffed, shaking his head irritably. "You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this. Like children."

"You _are_ my children," Dad retorted firmly. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Dad," Dean interrupted, "all due respect but, that's a bunch of crap." My eyebrows shot up in surprise and the three of us turned to stare at Dean, shocked. He never spoke out against Dad. Never.

"Excuse me?" Dad challenged.

"You know what Sammy, Luce and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself!" Dean replied, throwing his hands up. "You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

"It's not the same thing Dean," Dad rejected. I shifted my weight onto one foot, uneasily, and rubbed my arm.

"Sammy and Dean are right, Dad," I spoke up. This time they turned to me in surprise—it wasn't likely for me to go against Dad either. Dad waited for me to continue, expectantly. "I get it, alright. This demon is powerful and terrifying but Dad. So are _we_. The Winchesters. Together! We want to be a part of this because we can take this thing down _together_."

Dad immediately shook his head, and I felt frustration bubble up inside me. "No, Lucy, you _don't_ get it. This demon is worse than you think. It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you three alive."

"You mean you can't be as reckless," Dean shot back. Dad paused.

"Look...I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death, it almost killed me," Dad explained softly. My eyes watered slightly. "I can't watch my children die too, I won't."

"What happens if you die?" Dean persisted. "Dad, what happens if you die and we could've done something about it? You know I been thinking. Maybe Sammy's right about this one. Lucy too. We should do this together. We're stronger as a family and you know it." Both Sam and I nodded, staring at our Dad convincingly.

I bit down on my lip and urged, "Just let us help, Dad. Please."

I could tell from Dad's expression that he was thinking, and considering. But he still looked unconvinced and even slightly irritated. Finally, he replied strongly, "We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order."

A lump formed in my throat as my brothers and I watched him march to his truck without another word. My gaze dropped to my white shoes dejectedly. How could he possibly be so stubborn? How hard is it to just accept help every once in a while? Yeah, I got it loud and clear. He didn't want us hurt. Well, you know what? I didn't fancy seeing him harmed either! Why couldn't he understand that?

I felt Sam pull me along to the Impala. We still had a job to do. But hell if my Dad thought we were just going to leave him behind to be live bait for a bunch of bloodsuckers. Hell no! That option was not on the table.

~o~

It was astonishingly fast and simple to free all the captured humans from the vampire's nest and once Sam, Dean and I were finished with our job, we didn't even hesitate to go back to Dad. Technically that means we all disobeyed his orders. But it was worth it if it meant my Dad would be in good health for at least another day. It was an intellectual move on our part because our Dad was not as well off as we were.

Dad was obviously outnumbered by the vampires and was overpowered by them when we arrived. We launched our arrows upon the group of unsuspecting vamps. The element of surprise was an effective method for at least a minute…and then it wasn't. Luther, the leader, almost killed Sam when he got a hold on him! If it wasn't for Dad, he could have killed my brother.

But this is the most riveting part. Dad actually used the gun—the almighty Colt—against Luther. He fired a single shot to the head, right in between the eyes. It was…almost magical what happened. After releasing my brother, a sort of—sigil appeared on the lead vampire's head. Then all these flashes of light erupted in him…it was actually kinda gross, I mean we could see his skeleton. And just like that, he was dead. Just one shot.

I couldn't help but imagining a bullet from the Colt piercing the skull of the demon that murdered my mother. I couldn't wait.

Back in the hotel, my brothers and I packed our belongings in silence. A heavy feeling rested in my heart because I knew Dad was going to take off again. I was sick of it. Not knowing where he was…worrying if he was even still alive. I despised that feeling.

"So kids," my father said from behind us. Sam, Dean and I whirled around to face him and took a few steps towards him. "You ignored a direct order back there." I bit my lip harshly and didn't reply.

"Yeah but we saved your ass," Dean objected instantly, speaking the words on my mind. Sam glanced over in incredulity. Dad paused for a moment, before nodding in agreement.

"You're right," Dad agreed. This statement sparked surprise in all three of us now, and we looked up in unison. "It scares the hell out of me. You three are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...let's go after this damn thing. Together." I could only stare. He was…agreeing with us? Finally?

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean chorused, sounding just as astonished as I felt.

A wide smile grew on my face. "About time," I blurted.

~o~  
_October 29, 2006_

Less than a week later, Dad shared with us his research he'd collected over the past 20 years along with the first lead of the demon he'd picked up on a year ago. Damn…it's been a whole year already. Two days from now will have made it a year since Sam left with us. Since we've been together as a family again. The day after that—my 20th birthday. And lastly, November 2nd. The 20th anniversary of Mom's death…and now the 1st anniversary of Jess's.

Dad explained to us that this asshole demon had been going after families with little children; that was its thing. He noticed a weird trend though that Sam happened to fit in with. In the families it attacked, it had been the 6 month marker of a kid's birthday. Well, 6 months within the first 3 years. Take Sam for example—he had been exactly 3 years and 6 months old. Some of these other kids had been precisely 6 months and others at 1 year and 6 months, as well as 2 years and 6 months. But it never got older than that. Weird, huh?

Anyway, Sam was of course convinced this was somehow his fault or his problem—which it wasn't, you big dork! Dad told us there had been signs in the cities or towns where the families resided just before the demon would attack them, as there had been in Lawrence 20 years ago. These signs were currently occurring in a town in Iowa—fires, cattle deaths…stuff like that. And so that's where we headed. To Iowa.

This fucking son of a bitch demon wasn't going to be hurting anyone else. Not on my watch.

~o~

**Eh? Is it okay? Not sure if I like this one yet haha.**


	8. One Fucked Up Family

**Well I spent practically my whole vacation (well…outing I should say) writing this. I took me a surprisingly long time. But it's finally done! I was gonna add the ending scene of this episode to it, but it was already 4,000 words and I thought the 'it's coming' was a good place to end. But anyways, I hope you like it! Also…the language has extended to the chapter title…I'm sorry. **

**Once again, if you want to check out my character/story blog the link (take out spaces) is: erinpaigeandhercharacters . tumblr . com**

**Disclaimer: I only own my Lucy!**

**Chapter 8  
One Fucked Up Family**

**~o~**

I needed to tell my Dad about me. About Sam. About all the shit that was going on with us. Between Sam transforming into the psychic wonder and me tripping out on some sort of superhero energy juice, we were like a walking freak show. It seemed like it was building up towards something—every little creepy power up Sam and I possessed. Whatever was happening to either of us, it was becoming stronger. Maybe, just maybe, Dad would know something.

Before I could notify him of anything, his phone shrilly rang. I listened to one side of the conversation, surveying my Dad's expression as it converted into a grim, melancholy one. "What the hell happened?" he questioned the other side of the line. "Damn it. Okay. Yeah, thanks, Caleb." He snapped his phone shut and began to pull off the road. "Son of a bitch!"

"What happened? What's wrong?" I asked inquisitively.

"It's Jim Murphy…Pastor Jim; he was just found dead," he replied gloomily, stepping out of the car. I felt a start of surprise. No. It couldn't be. I'd know Pastor Jim since I was a little kid. He—he help my Dad with his hunts sometimes, he couldn't be dead.

"What?" I shrieked, jumping down from my seat. "How?"

"How what? What happened?" Dean asked tensely, walking from the Impala over to Dad and me.

"Pastor Jim's dead," Dad answered him in the same tone he used with me.

"Whoa, what? How?" Sam inquired, his eyes widening in alarm.

"Throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

"So it was a demon?"Dean concluded. Dad nodded slowly, and Dean's eyes widened. "_The_ demon?"

I shook my head in denial. "No, it can't be. This demon spends its whole life playing hide and seek and now it just suddenly decides to be sloppy? No, that doesn't sound right."

Dad nodded again, in conformity. "You're right, it doesn't. But he could've gotten careless and slipped up. Maybe he knows we're getting close."

My brothers and I remained speechless, trying to rack this around our heads. This was just…overwhelming. We were so close to this thing after so many years. "What do you want us to do?" Dean spoke for us.

"Now we act like every second counts," Dad began. "There are two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up. We cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's gonna hit a six month old mark in the next week. Don't worry about any kids over age 4, I don't think it'll go after them."

"Dad, that could be dozens—maybe hundreds—of kids! How the hell are we gonna know which one is the right one?" Sam urged. I frowned slightly, realizing he could be correct.

"We'll check them all, that's how," Dad snapped. I tensed instinctively. I begged for this not to end in a fight. Dad was frustrated and Sam was worried. I think we all were in a sense. Dean and I met eyes, our minds on the same fixation. "You got any better ideas?"

Sam shook his head, still troubled. "No sir." Sam and Dean made for the Impala, but I kept my eyes on my Dad. He didn't move to get into his car, but rather leaned against it, his eyes downcast. My brothers noticed slightly after me and stopped just before hopping into the Impala.

"Dad?" Dean questioned, concerned. Dad slightly nodded, turning around to face his two sons.

"Yeah. It's just…" Dad started heavily. I was still, watching him intently from the other side of the truck. "It's Jim…you know I can't…" I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat, biting down hard on my lip. I could have sworn that Dad almost broke down for a second. But he regained himself and a serious look overtook his face. "This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."

Dad glanced over at me and I gave him a sharp nod in return. Without another word to be said, I jumped back into the pickup truck determinedly. Dad slid into the driver's seat slightly after me. As we started driving down the highway once again, I gently took a hold of my Dad's free hand. He gave me a small smile and a gentle squeeze. We had lost so much already because of this damn demon…it wasn't going to hurt anybody else. No matter what.

~o~

"Dad, I have to talk to you."

My father glimpsed up for a trivial moment but quickly returned to his research. "Yeah, Bean?" he responded absentmindedly. I glanced around the waiting room of the hospital we were in. There might have not been an abundance of people in the room with us, but there were certainly more guests than I were comfortable speaking openly about.

"In private. It's important," I advised. Dad looked up again, frowning slightly at my interruption. But at the urgent look in my eyes, he stood and handed the records back to the front desk. I trailed behind him outside to the truck. It was cloudy outside and drips of rain gently hit my face.

"You say it's important, so it damn well better be," Dad barked, leaning against his truck and facing me expectantly. I nodded insistently.

"It is," I assured. Dad's eyes lightened and he motioned me to continue. "Okay. Dad, there's some weird…stuff happening. To me. And to Sam." Dad moved closer to me, now looking concerned.

"Weird stuff? What do you mean?" Dean questioned.

"Well, um…it started a few months ago. Back when me, Dean and Sam worked that case in our old house. I'm gonna assume you got that message," I began, already starting to ramble. "Well, there was that poltergeist in the house and at one point it had me pinned on the wall with a couch. I had heard Dean and Sam struggling and I got really frustrated so I…I pushed the couch. I didn't think I would move it, like that thing was 200 pounds and had the pressure of the poltergeist on it. But Dad I…I threw it. It landed all the way across the room. There's _no way_ I could have done that. Missouri Moseley—she told me it was a gift. She just didn't know what _it _was."

Dad's eyebrows were scrunched together and his expression was now one of complete alarm. When he didn't respond, I decided to continue. "And then back in June, that day when you first met up with us. Meg tied us up and you know she was doing her normal demon thing. Flirting with me and Sam, evilly revealing her deceptive plans…the villain speech you know. Well, once again, I got angry and…my bindings snapped. But when I looked at them…they didn't just snap, Dad. They were burned. Somehow I burnt them."

"Lucy, what—"

"Wait, one more thing," I cut him off. I was on a roll, and I figured might as well. Nervously, I ran a hand through my hair. "God, you're not gonna like this one. I've been hearing a voice. At first I just thought it was my mind making it up...but that was 13 years ago. When I first heard it. I've been hearing it since I was 7, Dad. And…I think it may belong to face I saw…the night Mom died."

Dad's eyes widened in apprehension. "A face? You saw a face that night? Are you sure?"

I nodded instantly. "I don't think it was the demon, Dad. It just…wasn't. But I don't know exactly what it was," I finished, meeting my Dad's eyes for the first time since my speech. He looked surprised and worried and definitely disturbed. He took a deep breath, running his hands over his face.

"Lucy Dianne, why didn't you tell me any of this before?" he asked after a long pause. I bit my lip, giving a small shrug.

"Well, I mean with the face and the voice…I didn't think it was that important—I know, I know," I interrupted as soon as I saw him open his mouth to scold me. "I know it's no excuse, okay. But the other stuff…Dad how'd you expect me to tell you anything? You wouldn't even answer when Dean was dying!"

Dad hesitated, and then nodded in agreement. "You're right, I'm sorry."

I nodded as well, looking out into the busy street. "It's not just me. Sam has some freaky stuff going on too. I mean, he—"

A shrill ring sounded from my phone, cutting off my sentence right in the middle. I swiftly pulled it out of my pocket. 'Sammy' was written across the screen. Flipping it up, I answered, "Hey, Sam. Did you find anything?"

"_If you'd count the demon's next victim as 'something'_," came Sam's reply. My eyes widened.

"Shit, really? You found them?" I answered. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dad perk up in interest.

"_Yeah, I met them too. Listen, I'll explain later. I just got off the phone with Dean; we're all gonna meet up at the hotel._"

"Yeah, alright, see you then." I snapped the phone shut, and looked back up at my Dad, who was waiting for news. "Sammy found them. He said he'll explain at the hotel." Dad gave a curt nod, and moved over to the driver's side of the truck. We both popped in the car, our previous conversation currently forgotten.

"We'll talk about all this later, okay?" he told me.

~o~

"A vision?" Dad repeated the word flatly after Sam said it. Sam sat at the small table in the room, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Dad and Dean were both sitting on the two twin beds in the room, while I leaned against the decorative posts in the room, near Sam.

"Yes," Sam answered slowly. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think it's gonna happen to this woman you met because?"

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them." I gulped, watching Dad's expression. Obviously, this was gonna be a lot for him to take in, especially with the news I'd shared with him earlier.

Dean stood and continued more elaborately, "It started out as nightmares, then it started happening while he was awake." He stopped in the kitchen and began to get some more coffee started.

"Yeah it's like, I don't know, the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get," Sam added, moving his hands towards his temples. Dad paused for a long time, and then looked up at me.

"Is this what you were trying to tell me, Lucy?" he asked me. Slowly, I nodded, but stayed silent. He rubbed his hands over his face exasperatedly and turned to his sons. "When were you gonna tell me about this?" I tensed at his tone. He was not happy with us.

"We didn't know what it meant," Dean answered casually.

"Well, something like this starts happening to your brother—and sister for that matter-, you pick up the phone and you call me," Dad snapped at Dean. This in particular caught Dean's attention, and he whirled around, raising an eyebrow at Dad.

"Call you? Are you kidding me?" Dean laughed, throwing his hands up. "Dad I called you from Lawrence. Sam called you when I was dying. Lucy's called. Getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery!" Dad glanced between the three of us wearily. Sam kept his eyes trained on the ground. I swallowed heavily.

"You know he's right, Dad," I mumbled, rubbing the side of my arm. Dean and Sam both glanced to me in surprise. Dad stared at me for a moment before casting his eyes downward.

"I know," Dad finally decided. "You both are. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone both of you have taken on, you're right. I'm sorry." I nodded, accepting his apology quickly.

"Look, guys," Sam chimed in. "Visions or no visions. The fact is we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."

"No, they're not. No one is…ever again," Dad concluded. Suddenly, Sam's phone rung, breaking through the tense air. Dean and I looked to each other and upon seeing my distress, he immediately strode to my side. My oldest brother wrapped an arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple. I leaned against him resignedly, as we listened to one side of Sam's conversation.

"Meg?" we heard him question. The other three us all looked up at Sam edgily. Oh god no, not this demonic bitch again. Dad stood up and strolled over to Sam slowly as the conversation continued. Eventually, Sam reluctantly handed the phone over to him. The three of us kids listened intently and worriedly. Dean and I held onto each other tightly.

Dad's friend Caleb was brought up a few times and a heavy lump grew in my throat. By the way they were talking…I think she killed him. I think Meg got to Caleb and murdered him. That fucking demon bitch. My grip on Dean tightened considerably. He squeezed my shoulder in a comforting attempt.

"Okay…I said okay. I'll bring you the colt." My eyebrows furrowed at my Dad. Surely, he couldn't be serious…right? Sam and Dean gave him similar looks, but he ignored all three of us. The exchange persisted only for a few quick sentences after, and then Dad leisurely closed the phone, holding it to his lips. Sam, Dean and I scrutinized him silently.

I considered my next words carefully. "Is…is Caleb…?" I whispered, trailing off emotionally. Dad hesitated. Then, he nodded grievously and handed the phone back to Sam. I felt my eyes water as I took in the news. I felt sick to my stomach. Two family friends in one day. We had to stop this before she could get to anybody else.

There was an uneasy, melancholy silence between us. Dad heaved a sigh and turned back to us, his face set determinedly. "Well, you were right about her being a demon, Lucy. She's definitely a demon." I couldn't bring myself to respond and instead just nodded shortly. "I'm going to Lincoln."

Sam, Dean and I all shared startled glances. "It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die—our friends die," Dad continued. The thoughts of Pastor Jim and Caleb crossed my mind and I gripped Dean's waist stiffly. The thought of one of our family's dearest friends crossed my mind.

"Do you think Meg would go after Bobby?" I fretted. Dad considered this and nodded at me.

"I have no doubt about it. He may even be next on her list," Dad guessed.

"But Dad, the demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family," Sam stated adamantly. "That gun is all we got. You can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a couple vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like."

I chuckled slightly and without humor. "You're thinking about getting a fake gun? You really think that's gonna work, I mean—this chick's smart."

Dad shrugged my comment off and replied, "As long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference." I shook my head doubtfully.

"Okay, but for how long?" Dean questioned. "What happens when she figures it out?"

"I just need to buy a few hours. That's all." I knew what Dad meant by that. I didn't say it out loud. Sam, however, didn't waver.

"You mean for Dean, Lucy and me," he determined. "You want us to stay here and kill this demon by ourselves."

"No, Sam," Dad started earnestly. "I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I—I want Dean to have a home, I want Lucy to have her family back." He turned away and ran his hands across his face. "I want Mary alive," he added, his voice shaking a bit. Tears once again sprung to my eyes.

When he turned around, his eyes were watery and his voice was unsteady. "I just…I just want this to be over."

~o~

"I don't know about this, Dean."

I sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, cradling the fake gun in my hands. It looked somewhat similar to the Colt, except it wasn't as detailed. But just peering at it…I don't know. I just couldn't picture this going well. Dean glanced over.

"I'm not either. But I don't think we got much of a choice, Luce," Dean replied, refocusing on the damp road ahead. We were almost to the location where we left our Dad and brother and I was growing more anxious by the moment.

"What if he gets hurt? What if Meg tricks him? What if—"

Dean placed a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed comfortingly. I looked into his eyes and detected all of my own questions in them. He was just as troubled as I was and was thinking through the same issues. But he didn't want to convey his true emotions. I positioned a hand upon his, grabbing it and using it to pull myself to his side. He wrapped an arm around me and I snuggled into his shoulder, just taking the moment to cherish my oldest brother. He just—Dean was my rock. He was continuously there for me—for love, for comfort, for fun, for help. I honestly would be lost without him. I don't know how I'd function.

When we pulled up to Sam and Dad, we exchanged the guns. Dean gave Dad the fake and Dad handed over the actual Colt to Dean. We shared some quick, emotional exchanges, including Dad telling us to "finish what he started". I hated the way he said that—as if he believed he wasn't coming back. No. He had to.

He wasn't gonna leave us that easily.

~o~

"We could always tell them the truth?"

My brothers and I sat halted outside the family Sam assumed the demon was coming for tonight, waiting in the Impala for anything out of the ordinary to occur. At the moment, it seemed like they were having a normal family dinner, in their normal house, with their normal family. Imagine that.

I snorted at Sam's remark. "Yeah. 'Hey, no need to worry, there's just a demon coming soon that wants to kill you, rip apart your family and give your baby psychic powers'; yeah, that'll go over well."

Sam shrunk back, and Dean barked out a laugh. "I know, I know…just a suggestion," Sam grumbled. I smiled and ruffled his fluffy hair. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam.

"Sam, we only got one move, and you know it, alright? We got to wait for that demon to show itself, and then we get it before it gets them," he explained lightly. Sam and I both nodded and the three of us returned our attention to the house.

"I wonder how Dad's doing," Sam spoke up again.

"That bitch better not hurt him, I swear…"I growled.

"Yeah, I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up," Dean agreed with me. Sam let out a low, breathy chuckle.

"I'd feel better if he were back _us_ up," he commented. Dean and I gazed at him for a moment, and looked back at the house. Nothing had changed…this was gonna be a long night…

About two hours later, the family finally switched off the lights and headed to bed. I had been resting my head against Dean's shoulder, which wasn't really helpful to keep me awake. I struggled to keep my eyes open and alert. Occasionally, my brothers and I would share a quick exchange—nothing long enough to carry on a conversation.

"Guys, um…"Sam began after a brief talk had occurred between him and Dean. I looked up from Dean's shoulder, taking note of the serious tone in his voice. "I just wanted to thank you." I furrowed my eyebrows at my brother, shooting him a questioning look.

"For what?" Dean asked.

"You guys have just…you've always had my back, you know?" Sam elucidated gratefully. "Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on the both of you. And now…I don't know. I just wanted to let you guys know, just in case." I gave my brother a small, loving smile and rubbed his arm affectionately. Dean, however, took his words differently.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you kidding me?" he inquired. When Sam questioned him, he clarified, "Don't say just in case something happens to you. I don't wanna hear that freaking speech man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?"

I nudged Dean gently, shushing him calmly. His temper sputtered out and he nodded apologetically. Sam seemed to understand where his frustration was coming from. We were all frustrated. We were all anxious. "And I'm sorry to both of you," I piped up, breaking the nervous silence between us. My brothers both faced me, equal looks of confusion on their face.

"Sorry for what?" Sam questioned, concerned.

"For one, to you Sam. For snapping at you. For resenting you for leaving all this time. It's not fair and I don't know why exactly I can't let go of that bitterness. I want to. I really do. And I need to, because I love you and I shouldn't hold it against you. So I'm sorry if I ever do…or ever have," I explained. Sam opened his mouth to retort something, but I cut him off and turned to Dean.

"And I'm sorry to you, Deany. When…when Sam left, I treated you so awfully. And if I'm being honest here…sometimes I still do. I treat you as if having just you wasn't good enough for me. As if _you _weren't good enough. But you a_re_, Dean, and I love you so much. And don't act like you've never felt that way. You told me so once when I was 16…you were 23. Yeah, I remember that and I was too stubborn and butthurt to take it into consideration. So…I'm sorry," I finished, my eyes darting between my two older brothers. They looked slightly speechless.

Nothing was spoken between us for an extensive amount of time. It was a considerate silence—not tense, not awkward, but not exactly comfortable either. Just thoughtful. Finally Sam chuckled, running a hand through his scruffy brown hair. "God, we are one fucked up family," he mused. Dean and I both attempted to hold back our grins, but we ultimately broke out in snickers. And the three of us laughed together, contentedly enjoying each sibling's company.

A little while later, Dean made the effort to reach Dad…no luck, as usual. Sam made an attempt to spread comfort between all of us, saying, "Maybe Meg was late. Maybe cell reception's bad." I frowned and let my anxiousness and paranoia take over me.

"Or maybe he's dead," I mumbled. Dean shot me an aggravated glare.

"Gee, Luce, ease up on the optimism," he retorted, sarcasm dripping from his voice. I rolled my eyes, not even bothering with an apologetic look.

"Sorry," I grumbled bitterly.

A strange static suddenly overtook the radio. Even as Sam reached over and flicked through each station, the sound wouldn't end. Every station was…just static. A cold, breezy chill fluttered through the Impala and twirled around in the air and I couldn't help my shiver. Hugging my blue jean jacket more snugly to me, I watched as Sam piddled with the radio and jumped back when the lights started to flicker.

My brothers and I then peered at the house. In horror, we observed as the lights in the family's house began to switch on and off repeatedly. All three of our stomachs dropped as we realized what was occurring right before our eyes. Sam was the one to speak the words that was on all of our minds.

"It's coming."

~o~

**Hope you liked! Maybe review? :)**


	9. The Demons Attack

**This is a long one! So get ready for some action! Almost done with season 1!**

**Character side blog: erinpaigeandhercharacters . tumblr . com  
(without spaces)**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

**~o~  
Chapter 9  
The Demons Attack**

Inside, the house was silent, dark and still. Dean managed to break in without a problem and though admittedly we were fantastic at our jobs—I just figured it wasn't going to be as easy. Tiptoeing through the house, I realized I spoke way too soon.

"Get out of my house!" the husband shouted and swung a bat at my oldest brother to which Dean barely dodged. A lamp positioned on a table flew across the room and shattered at the force. The man tried again, but this time Dean caught the bat in motion and used it to overpower the man and shove him against the nearest wall.

"Please, Mr. Holden, please," Sam pleaded rationally in attempt to calm the frantic man.

"You and your family are in danger," I warned as soothingly as possible.

"Be quiet and listen," Dean commanded the still struggling man. "We are trying to help you." None of our attempts worked, and when the man heard his wife calling for him, he was quick to caution her out of fright.

"Monica, get the baby!"

"Don't go into the nursery!" Sam yelled in alarm. With a swiftly exchanged glance, I bolted up the stairs with Sam speedily trailing close behind, leaving Dean to deal with the panicked husband. I didn't even stop to think. I reached the nursery before Sam, grabbing Monica just as she began to ascend against the wall.

"Rosie!" Monica cried, struggling against my sturdy grip around her waist. Luckily, I was strong enough to hold her back. When Sam came into my view, I finally took the opportunity to steal a look up into the nursery. And for the first time in my 20 years, I looked upon the demon that killed my mother.

Monica almost broke away from my clutch on her considering I nearly dropped my arms from her in shock. Time seemed to come to a halt as I stared the dark figure down. My heartbeat pumped throughout my entire body and goosebumps formed down my arms as the room shifted icy and sinister. The demon twisted and his eyes came into the light. They were…petrifying. Blazing, malevolent, yellow eyes. And as I locked my own emerald eyes on it, something around me altered abruptly.

I unexpectedly felt shielded and…and powerful. Warmth emanated from me. The demon stared at me in…was that repulsion? It began to progress towards Sam and I in a fluid motion, snapping Sam from a trance he appeared to be under. My brother rose the Colt, aimed it at the demon and shot. And apparently, wasted one of the bullets.

The demon disappeared in smoke. Monica screamed as an aftermath of the gun shot. She resumed her struggling against me, still calling out for her daughter. "Where the hell did it go?" Sam shouted, doing a 360 around the room. I breathed heavily, still in shock…and still absorbing the power I felt surrounding me.

"Sam!" I gasped. His gaze fell on me and his eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Lucy…?" he questioned uncertainly, sparking my curiosity. I scrunched my eyebrows together, shaking my head.

"What?" I asked breathlessly. Sam could only stare. What the hell could he be looking at?

Dean burst into the room, not even bothering to spare a glance in our direction. As Monica cried for her baby once more, Dean shoved past us and yelled, "Go! I got her! Take Monica and go!" Choosing to ignore Sam's perplexed gape fixed upon me, I grabbed Monica's arm and pulled her down the stairs. I heard my brothers trailing closely behind along with the wailing baby Dean was carrying.

A deafening shatter blared from the second floor and immediately smoke filled every inch of the house. But despite the huge explosion, I didn't sense any form of heat...that was odd. I refrained from sparing a glance back and instead focused on shoving Monica out of her destroyed home. Stumbling outside, I noticed my brothers and Monica were all coughing as a result of the smoke. I…wasn't. Again, odd.

"You get away from my family!" the husband screamed, approaching us furiously. Monica intervened, shaking her head and placing a hand on her husband's arm.

"No, Charlie, don't!" she cried. "They saved us!" Taking that as his cue, Dean moved towards the couple and softly handed the bundle he was holding to her mother. Monica seized her baby with a wave of relief. The family huddled together appreciatively and Monica gratefully thanked Dean. When they turned away from us, I placed a hand on his arm reliantly. He hissed and retracted his arm immediately.

"Shit, Lucy, you're burning—"Dean froze mid-sentence as his eyes fell on me, "—up." My eyes darted between my two brothers, who were now in the process of gawking at me, dumbfounded. Complete and utter terror bubbled up in my stomach, and I felt my anxiety reach its ultimate level. "What the hell?"

"What?" I hissed nervously through clenched teeth. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

With wide eyes, Sam replied, "Lucy…you're glowing."

"_What_?" I practically sobbed. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"It started in the nursery," Sam confided, attempting to remain calm for my sake. "Just…_look._" He gestured to my arm. Finally, I peered down…and my eyes widened in astonishment. From my skin radiated a brilliant, white luminosity. It surrounded me from head to toe and emitted the heat from my body. I could only stare at myself in stunned silence, barely able to form a thought.

Suddenly, Monica screeched. My brothers and I all twisted around to find her staring up at the second story window of the nursery. We followed her gaze, peering up into the flames. And there it was again. Through the flames, my brothers and I laid our eyes upon the black figure of the demon once more. The force around me grew additionally potent. I was unsure of whether to feel frightened or secure. I settled on frightened.

"It's still in there," Sam stated with a snarl, and lunged for the house. Dean reacted rapidly and yanked him back by the arms before he could do something stupid. I kept my eyes on the dark figure, unable to bring myself to budge. I was immobile out of distress.

"Sam, no!" Dean cried, gripping him firmly and managing to contain him regardless of his struggling.

"Dean, let go! It's still in there!"

"It's burning to the ground—it's suicide!"

"I don't care!"

"Yeah well we do!"

My eyes were still fixated on the demon with the flames whipping around it. It lingered until my brothers bore their own eyes simultaneously upon it. And then it vanished once more. The effect on me was immediate.

A cold breeze washed away the heat that had once surrounded me. In the midst of the cool air came the heat of the flames from above—they were much unlike the pleasant warmth I had previously felt. The smell of smoke filled my nose and I was forced to wheeze my way through the initial discomfort of it. The power surge I had experienced was whisked away instantly—the difference was overwhelming and I practically collapsed to the ground.

Dean grabbed me and kept me steady as he held me against him. "Lucy!" he called. His voice was blurred—almost like a dream. "Lucy! You okay?"

His voice was clearer now. My surroundings came back into focus. Shakily I nodded. "I'm fine," I lied in a hushed, rickety voice. "I'm fine."

Seizing my waist with one hand and a reluctant Sam's arm with the other, Dean pulled us both along to the Impala. "Come on, let's go."

~o~

I stared at nothing. My brothers and I were back in our hotel room and I was seated criss-crossed on one of the wooden chairs. And while Dean paced the room, making an effort to get Dad on the phone, and Sam glared at the wall from his seat on the bed, I just stared.

I tried to ignore the spark of fear caused by Dean's failed attempt to reach Dad. My pessimistic mind would have nagged me into believing my father was dead if I hadn't disregarded the failed phone call. Instead, I ignored both of my brothers as I tried to make sense of what happened back at that house. Images flicked through my mind like TV channels. The Holden family. The black figure of the demon. The disgusting yellow eyes. The blazing flames. And finally the glow of my skin. What the hell _happened_?

What was happening to me? Was I even _human_?

I was harshly snapped back to reality when Sam heatedly smashed Dean against the wall of the hotel, gripping him by the collar of his jacket. "Don't you say that! Not after all of this!" he bellowed with a furious scowl on his face. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, my anxiety boiled to the surface along with a heaping wave a fury. I shot to my feet and swiftly moved to my belligerent brothers.

"Hey!" I shouted irately, grabbing a handful of Sam's sleeve and ripping him away from Dean. With a snarl, I continued, "What the hell is wrong with you two?! Are you seriously fighting right now?! We're finally facing this demon for the first time in 20 years, and you're gonna sit here and fight about it? No. _Hell_ no. And with Dad missing—again—we don't even know if he's dead or alive and I…I see this demon and I turn into the human torch? If I even _am _human, that is…"

I trailed off from my frantic rambling as emotion overcame my voice. Frenzied tears rolled down my cheeks as I hissed out my next words. "What's happening to me? What—_the hell_—is happening to me?" I let out a pathetic sob I was hoping I could have kept in. "With what's happening to me, and if Dad's still alive, I…I can't _take_ this anymore."

Sam took a long stride towards me and pulled me into a deep embrace. I wrapped my arms around his bulky torso and buried my face in his chest. He was about a foot taller than me, so he was able to rest his chin on the top of my head. I felt Dean rest a soothing hand on my back, and I turned my head to face him, still resting my head on my other brother's chest. With one glance, I could determine that my oldest brother was holding back tears of his own.

With a hand on my back, and a hand on Sam's arm, he spoke gently, "Lucy, Sam, look…the four of us—that's all we have. And it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, guys. Without you two and dad…"

Sam let out a breathy chuckle and released me, rubbing his forehead. I leaned against Dean wearily. "Dad," Sam sighed. He turned back to Dean and me with red, tearful eyes. "He should have called by now. Try him again." Dean consciously obeyed and raised the phone in his hands. He dialed the number and raised the phone to his ear.

For a split second, I was positive Dad's line had gone to voicemail. But Dean's expression was different. He slowly looked up at Sam and me with eyes bursting of terror. "Where is he?" Dean quavered, speaking the words I had dreaded to hear. A fresh stream of tears flooded my eyes and fell down my face.

"Damn it!" I growled, and restrained myself from punching something…anything.

My brother didn't speak another word to the demon on the other end of the line and I watched as he shut the phone with a trembling hand. "They've got Dad," he informed us. I detected a hint of fright in his voice, but knowing Dean, he was trying incredibly hard not to let it show.

"Meg?" Sam asked and Dean nodded his confirmation. Sam scowled and continued, "What did she say?"

"I just told you, Sammy," Dean retorted and brought hand up to his face to keep himself steady for Sam and me. He let out a shaky breath and grabbed the Colt from the bedside table, stuffing it into the back of his jeans. He next moved over to his duffel bag, yanking the zipper closed.

"We leaving?" I questioned, strolling over to my own bag and grasping the strap, preparing myself to depart. I pulled my grey scarf over my head, positioning it into the perfect spot over my striped shirt and slid my discarded jean jacket over my shoulders once more.

"Yeah, we're leaving," Dean answered, slipping his jacket over his shirt. Sam, however, made no effort to get ready and alternatively darted his eyes between the two of us.

"Why?" Sam questioned. Dean sighed, frustrated.

"Because the demon knows we're in Salvation, alright. It knows we got the Colt. It's got Dad – it's probably coming for us next."

"Good," Sam retorted argumentatively, "we've still got three bullets left! Let it come!"

I whirled on my brother. "Are you kidding me?" I screeched. "We can't take on that thing! Not now!"

"Why not?!" Sam exclaimed, raising his hands. I wanted to slap him. Dean rose to his full height and got directly in front of Sam.

"Listen, tough guy, we're not ready. We don't know how many of them are out there. We're no good to anybody dead," Dean barked at the belligerent middle sibling. I heaved my duffel bag onto my shoulder, staring Sam down, trusting that he might get it through his thick head. Sam remained silent and reluctantly followed Dean and I out the door when he ordered:

"We're leaving—_now_!"

~o~

Dean put the Impala to its full use. He slammed on breaks and the gas pedal here and there, speeding on every highway. Tires screeched as he twisted and curved down the fortunately empty streets. Lucky for us, the night seemed to be void of cops or we would have most certainly have been stopped to receive a ticket. Not like we paid any of those anyway.

"I'm telling you, guys, we could have taken him," Sam grumbled grudgingly. I rolled my eyes.

"No, we couldn't have!" I denied irritably. Sam's jaw clenched.

"God, would you stop being so fucking negative all the time!" he snapped with a glower. I put on a pseudo pleasant expression and turned to him.

"Jee, I'm sorry Sam. Of course we could have wasted this hardass demon by ourselves that even Dad hasn't been able to track! And while we're at it, we're gonna save Dad and the four of us will live happily ever after and never fight again!" I jeered sardonically, in a mocking cheerful tone.

"Alright, enough!" Dean interjected sharply, cutting off Sam before he could retort. "Look, what we need is a plan. Now, they're probably keeping Dad alive, we just gotta figure out where. They're gonna wanna trade him for the gun." Sam shook his head. "What?"

Sam sighed and replied, "If that were true, why didn't Meg mention a trade? Dad—he might be—"

"Don't!" Dean reprimanded.

"Yeah, I'm the negative one," I commented, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You said it too, Lucy!" Sam reminded. Yeah. He's right. I did. But that didn't mean I wanted to believe it. Addressing Dean, he reasoned, "Look, I don't want to believe it any more than you. But if he is, all the more reason to kill this damn thing. We still have the Colt. We can still finish the job!"

"Screw the job, Sam!" Dean shouted. I placed both hands on my temples and massaged, trying desperately to rub the stress away.

"Dean, I'm just trying to do what he would want!" Sam reckoned. "He would want us to keep going, don't you guys see that!"

"Would you quit talking about him like he's dead already? That goes for you too, Lucy," Dean quarreled, his frustration with our brother boiling over. "Listen to me. Everything stops until we get him back. You understand me? Everything."

I sunk down deeper into my seat in the front, in between my brothers. I honestly was just...I was tremendously stressed out. And drained. I wanted…No. I _needed _this to be over. I needed everything and everyone to be okay.

"So, how do we find him?" Sam asked calmly after a trivial hush between us three siblings. Dean was apparently already thinking this over, being that he replied instantly.

"We go to Lincoln; start at the warehouse where he was taken."

But Sam shook his head, rejecting, "Come on, Dean, you really think these demons are going to leave a trail?"

He had a point. I just sat and listened to my brothers, far too weary to make a comment. "You're right. We need help."

~o~

We sought the best help we could possibly get. I smiled as Dean pulled the Impala into an old, trashy junkyard in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. This place was so familiar to me—almost like a childhood home you could say! I was undoubtedly the most enthusiastic out of my brothers when we arrived at the Singer Salvage Yard. I hopped out of the Impala and had to desist from running to the door.

I rapped on the wooden door when I reached the entrance, smirking when I heard grumbling coming from the other side. "Yeah?" replied a deep voice, now closer to the door.

"Bobby?" I addressed. After a moment's pause, the door swung open, revealing a tall, scruffy, older man I came to know as my Uncle Bobby.

"Ah, shit," he complained good-naturedly upon seeing us three siblings. "Winchesters."

I grinned. "Don't act like you're not happy to see us."

"Yeah, well, happy's one word," he retorted and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Come on in, Lucy…boys," he ushered, opening the door wider for the three of us to enter. Inside was left just as I remembered it. Numerous books were stacked in various places among the house. Papers and other clutter were scattered on the walls and tables in disarray.

The books sparked Sam's interest almost instantaneously and he took a seat at the desk, propping one open. I pulled out a chair opposite of him and sat, taking in my environment. The last time I had been here was approximately a year and a half ago when I was 18. It really hadn't changed much since then. I barely listened as Dean briefly explained to Bobby what was going on with us and our Dad.

Bobby pulled out two round silver flasks, both embroidered with crosses on the side. He selected one of them and handed it to my oldest brother, who examined it and looked back at Bobby questionably. "What is this – holy water?" he asked curiously.

"That one is," Bobby replied and then took a swig from the flask in his hand, and handed it over to Dean. "This one's whiskey." I chuckled. Dean gulped down a portion of the whiskey and returned it to Bobby. Bobby started to hand it to me, but then pulled it back. "You twenty-one yet?"

I shrugged. "Twenty. Well…twenty in two days."

Bobby shrugged and handed it to me anyway. "Close enough." I smirked and took a drink from the flask, flinching at the burning taste.

Handing it back, I said, "Hey, thanks for this Bobby. All of it."

Dean nodded in accord. "Yeah, thanks. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure if we should've come."

"Nonsense. Your daddy needs help," Bobby insisted. I almost laughed at the irony at that statement.

"Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. Cocked the shotgun and everything," Dean reminded. My brother and I shared a look and sniggered at the memory. Bobby shrugged again, ignoring the two of us.

"Yeah, well what can I say? John just has that effect on people," he mused. I snorted. "None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back." I smiled once more at the man affectionately. Bobby was kinda like our babysitter growing up. In fact, sometimes he even acted as our dad when our real one would disappear. I knew that my brothers and I could consistently rely on him.

Sam continued to browse through the books he had discovered, picking up on a few interesting and useful hints and information within them. Ah, my brother. Always the bookworm. Bobby explained the devil's trap to us and that it was essentially effective. He also told us that he figured that something big was building up, with all the demonic possessions that had been taking place recently. There were additional demons roaming the earth.

From outside, the dog in the yard began to bark viciously and noisily. Bobby stepped to the window, peering into the yard cautiously. Just when he turned around and warned, "Something's wrong," the front door was kicked in with enough force to tear it open. A blonde, tanned woman I recognized as Meg the demon strolled in through the opening.

Stopping in front of us, she greeted in a surprisingly calm yet dangerous voice, "No more crap, okay?" Dean advanced on her, screwing off the top of his flask of holy water. Meg easily tossed him aside with a flick of her wrist, sending him crashing into piles of books in the corner of the room. Smiling, she faced me. "Hi, baby cakes! Miss me?"

Snarling, I shot back, "Yeah, sweet cheeks, I was counting down the moments." I stepped near Sam, making sure to place myself in front of Bobby to guard the older man. He was far more skilled than I, but I'm overprotective.

The demon giggled, proceeding closer to us three slowly. "Glad to hear! Now, if you'll excuse me, I just need to have a little chat with your big brother here. Hi Sam!" With a scowl, I clutched onto Sam's sleeve protectively. "I want the colt, Sam—the real colt—right now."

"We don't have it on us," Sam answered, backing me and Bobby along with him with each step Meg took towards us. "We buried it."

"Didn't I say "no more crap"?" she cried. She was unaware of her actions, but I realized what Sam was trying to do. There was a devil's trap painted on the ceiling, out of view. And we were going to lure her straight into it. "I swear – after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed. First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you three chuckleheads. Lackluster, kids! I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

Dean stood in the doorway behind her. "Actually," he stated breathlessly. "We were counting on it." Without any further, he slowly shifted his eyes towards the ceiling and Meg's gaze followed. Directly above her head was the devil's trap. Gradually, she lowered her eyes, fixing them upon my oldest brother with surprise.

"Gotcha."

~o~

"Where's our father, Meg?"

Meg smirked mockingly up at Dean from where she was bound to a wooden chair under a devil's trap. She was unable to escape between the two factors, and we had her just where we wanted her. "You didn't ask very nice," she ridiculed.

Dean returned her smirk and retorted, "Where's our father, bitch?"

"Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh I forgot. You don't." I held back a violent comment that wanted to escape me, and let my oldest brother handle the interrogating.

"You think this is a freaking game?!" he roared heatedly and got impossibly close to the demon. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

Meg lowered her voice to a treacherous whisper, "He died screaming. I killed him myself." I saw Dean quivering in anger and I reacted swiftly. Just as he raised his hand to strike her across the face, I grabbed his wrist. He turned and upon meeting my eyes, he calmed.

"Aww, thanks for that, angel face. You're too sweet," Meg chimed to me cheerfully. I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore her bait.

"Angel face. That's a new one," I commented bitterly. Her grin altered slightly sinister.

"Well. It is the most accurate."

I furrowed my eyebrows at her, utterly perplexed by the bizarre comment. I chose to shrug it off and rather followed Bobby into the next room where he called my brothers and I to meet. Forming a sort of circle with my brothers and Bobby, I spared a glance back at the demon girl. Her brown eyes were…knowing. With a look I could verify that she was aware of something that I wasn't. Panting and smiling her wicked grin, she shot a wink at me. I glared and focused in on what Bobby was informing us.

Dean's voice was the first to come into my attention "Are you trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?"

"In Meg?" I questioned. Bobby nodded to both of us. My eyes shifted back to her, meeting her cold glare.

"That's actually good news," Dean commented. "Sammy, I need you to look through Dad's journal. Try to find an exorcism ritual; we can get that bitch outta that girl and back to hell where she came from." Sam nodded once and began his task, digging through the duffel bag and pulling out Dad's journal.

I grabbed a vial of holy water and I took the chance to approach Meg, placing my hands on each arm of the chair and towering over her. The demon exhaled a short laugh. "I knew you'd come around at one point or another," she breathed and her eyes flicked black. Her tone was hushed to the point where even I had to lean down further in order to hear her.

"Enough with this bullshit, Meg," I whispered, baring my emerald orbs into her demonic onyx ones. "What do you know about me?" Her snarl lifted into a smirk and she leisurely shook her head. Her bobbed blonde hair graced my face.

"Uh uh uh," she sang tauntingly. "Don't get too eager there, angel face. Not like I could tell you anything anyway…I might get grounded." I clenched my jaw in irritation, but couldn't think of anything of the top of my head that would force her to blurt out anything. So, I shoved myself away from her impatiently, running a hand through my hair and paced.

Meg's eyes switched back to the natural dark brown. Leaning back, she scoffed at the sight of Sam and Dean, glancing at the open book in front of them. "You gonna read me a story?" she jested. Dean stopped close to her and stared down at her cruelly.

"Something like that. Hit it, Sam."

Sam began to recite the words off the pages in Dad's journal, speaking in old Latin. None of the words were familiar to me so instead of listening my brother perform the exorcism, I stared Meg down, surveying her expressions and reactions. Initially she scoffed, believing herself to be a great deal superior to a standard exorcism. But between Dean's taunts and Sam's reading, she finally started to struggle.

"I'm going to kill you," she warned dangerously after squeezing her eyes shut. Reopening them, her gaze flicked to Sam, then to me and finally to Dean. "I'm gonna rip the bones from your body." I merely glowered at her, twisting the bottle of holy water in my hands. Meg remained silent when it came to the details of where she had taken our Dad. And so Sam resumed the exorcism.

Meg illustrated obvious evidence of the pain she was in, such as the shaking that began to rack throughout her whole body, as well as her shallow panting. Sam only paused when she cried out in pain. She hissed lowly, "He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons and his little daughter one last time. That's when I slit his throat."

Every muscle in my jaw clenched. "Liar," I seethed through my teeth, reaching to unscrew my bottle of holy water. Sam and I met eyes briefly and he took it as his cue to recommence his reading. Dean leveled himself to Meg, his gaze furious and perilous.

"For your sake, I hope you're lying. Cause if it's true I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God," he growled, and regained his composure.

The exorcism grew more intense and the air turned stale and cold. Wind rustled the pages of books and Meg struggled even tougher. Despite the complete agony she was in, she insisted repeatedly that she had murdered our Dad. And with a sickly dread, I was beginning to believe her words. In a horrifying twist, Meg let out a piercing shriek and the chair slid jerkily in a circle.

Finally, she had enough. She cried out, "He will be!" Dean held up a hand, pausing Sam and I took a step towards the demon with wide eyes.

"So he _is_ alive!" I yelled, relief washing over me. "Where is he, you bitch?"

Meg shook her head wearily. "It doesn't matter. Because he _will_ be dead after what we do to him." Dean beckoned Sam to resume the exorcism, but Meg interrupted fluidly and exhaustedly. "A building! Okay? A building in Jefferson City. Missouri. I don't know where." She paused, panting. "That's it, that's all I know."

Dean, though appreciative of the new information the demon had given to us, was not impressed and didn't feel merciful. "Finish it," he ordered Sam. Observing the frantic and fatigued demon, I almost protested against my oldest brother. But I remembered there was still an innocent woman that remained in the body Meg was possessing. And we had to save her.

Sam was reluctant initially as well; convinced she had lied about her lack of knowledge and insisting that we could still use the demon for information. Bobby intervened between the three of us and said, "You're gonna kill her. You said she fell from a building. That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it – that girl is going to die."

"Which would be probably a blessing to her!" I advised. "That girl is in agony right now. Letting her die would be putting her out of her misery!"

Sam and Bobby remained silent, and without any further words to be said, Dean agreed, "Sam, finish it." When Sam continued, Meg's squirming and twitching was instantaneous. It was almost sickening to watch. Her head snapped up and her eyes were once again deep pools of black.

And finally, in one ultimate toss of the head, Meg wailed. Thick, black smoke pooled from her mouth and out onto the ceiling, where it shot in different directions and disappeared. I jumped back frightfully and clasped onto the nearest person—which turned out to be Sam—in absolute astonishment. The experience was…intense, to say the least. Suddenly, it came to a halt and the girl collapsed forward against the ropes that bound her. In shock, I couldn't find myself capable to budge.

A single drop of blood trickled from her mouth.

~o~

**To be continued…**


	10. Hello, Old Yellow Eyes

**Last chapter of season 1! I'm…I'm actually really proud of this one. I just…this whole story's coming together much better than I ever thought it would and people are actually liking it and…wow just. Yeah. I'm happy :)**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 10  
Hello, Old Yellow Eyes**

Gradually, the girl raised her head, moaning in pain and effort. We got a better look at her. Blood dripped from a corner of her mouth and down to her clothes. Her eyes were sunken and defeated, with large, dark circles beneath them. Traces of tears caused by her suffering clung to her dark lashes. She looked…broken.

"She's still alive!" Dean marveled. Urgently, he turned to Bobby and ordered, "Call 911. Get some water and blankets!" Bobby immediately obeyed, rushing off to perform the tasks given to him. I hurried to the girl's—the real Meg's—side and knelt down beside her. A stray blonde hair had fallen into her bloody lips, and I shoved it away, gently cradling the girl's head.

My brothers freed her wrists from the rough rope binding her. "Th..ank…you…" she croaked, barely above a whisper. My brothers and I shushed her.

"Shhh, don't try to talk. The ambulances are on their way," I soothed, stroking the girl's hair comfortably.

"Come on, let's get her down," Dean suggested to Sam and I. My brothers held her from under her knees and across her upper back, while I held her head up. She whimpered and groaned as we lowered her, even with how tender the three of us were managing to be. I couldn't even imagine the type of agony she was in. I assumed almost every single bone in her body must have been broken or beaten in some way.

She gasped as I laid her head down and breathed, "A year…" My brothers and I waited for her to elaborate, willing her to take as much time as she required. "It's been a year. I've been awake…f-for some 'f it. I couldn't move my own body…" I pushed her bangs away from her eyes as we listened to her intently. The majorly pessimistic part of my mind told me this could be her last words. So I wanted to assure she was heard.

"The things I d…id—it's a nightmare," she finished, sputtering over her words. I softly shook my head, giving her my kindest look.

"That wasn't _you_," I denied in a murmur.

"B-But I saw it…as if 't was," the girl breathed.

Dean asked, "Was it telling us the truth about our dad?" Both Sam and I shot him disapproving looks, to which he retorted, "We need to know." In the back of my mind, I knew he was right. I just didn't desire to watch this girl suffer anymore.

"Yes," the real Meg gasped. "But it wants…you to know…that…they want you to come for him."

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters," Dean stated. At this point, I positioned the girl's head onto my lap in an attempt to bring her as much comfort as possible. Bobby returned soon after, carrying both a fresh glass of water and a blanket. I assisted her in raising her head, so she could sip at the water. I also spread the blanket across my lap for her to return her head to.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam questioned her delicately once she finished her sip and rested her head on my lap once again.

"Not there…Other ones. Awful ones," she wheezed.

"Where are they keeping our Dad?" Dean offered next.

"By the r-river," she replied. I realized too late that she was taking her final breaths. "…Sunrise…"

"Sunrise? What does that mean?" Dean tried. But I gazed down at the lifeless girl mournfully. What a terrible way to die. Dean wasn't prepared to give up. "What does that mean?"

"Dean!" I scolded, glaring up at my brother. I lowered my voice, and my gaze softened considerably. "She's gone."

The four of us all gazed upon the departed young girl. She must have been around my age…maybe a little older. Far too young to die. Somberly, I graced my hand along the girl's face and lightly closed her eyes for the final time.

~o~

My brothers and I bid our goodbyes to Bobby and headed to Jefferson City, Missouri, where the demon Meg had instructed us to go. Sam came up with the brilliant idea to protect the Colt from demons in the trunk of the Impala by diagramming devil's trap on it. Dean was originally, and I assume still, opposed to the idea due to the fact that he wanted to drag the Colt with us; but he eventually agreed.

In Jefferson City, we discovered what Meg was explaining when she said that Dad and the demons were "in Sunrise". We found an apartment complex so named 'Sunrise Apartments', located directly beside a long river. It was pretty intelligent of the demons actually to disguise themselves as normal civilians. Of course, that made our job loads more complicated. Dean brainstormed the idea to trigger the fire alarm, which would hopefully evacuate every innocent inhabitant. And when our plan was in effect, we portrayed different tasks. Dean distracted the firemen surrounding the building, while Sam broke into a firetruck to steal disguises and I kept watch for both curious workers and rogue demons.

Our plan resulted effectively. Dressed in full firefighter gear, my brothers and I stopped outside a certain apartment when our EMF detector went off the charts. We nodded at each other and knocked on the door. One of the demons unlatched the door's lock, and my brothers and I burst in, spraying the demons with holy water from tanks we carried. Between the three of us, we easily overpowered the two weak demons, shoving them into a closet and salting a circle around it.

As soon as the demons were stuffed in the closet and out of our worry, we stripped our heavily, dense firefighter outfits, returning to our normal clothes. Together, we pushed our way through the bedroom door. There he was. Our Dad was spread across the bed with restraints holding him to it. He was unconscious and slightly bloodied.

I almost instantly jogged to his side, setting a knee on top of the bed. I placed a soft hand on the side of my father's face worriedly, checking for any signs of life. "Daddy?" I whimpered, grazing my hand along his soft, black hair. Dean was next to his side, but Sam remained in the doorway.

"Dad?" Dean questioned nervously and leaned down close to him. After a moment, he rose, looking between Sam and me. "He's still breathing. Dad! Wake up!" Dean grabbed Dad's jacket and used it to try to shake him to consciousness. I kept my hand near his face, gently brushing the skin there. Sam took a dissimilar approach to the situation, and instead recovered a bottle of holy water.

He wanted to test it. Just to make sure. And with a few flicks of the water upon his still body, we were able to confirm that Dad was indeed, not possessed. Additionally, the water jolted him awake. Dad stirred, lifting his head slightly to glimpse at his middle child. "Sam? Why are you splashing water on me?" he whispered. Sam and I both chuckled.

"Dad, are you okay?" Dean inquired, concerned. Dad lay back down wearily.

"They've been drugging me," he sighed. "Where's the Colt?"

"It's safe, Daddy," I replied, my eyes flicking over to Sam. "Sammy's idea."

Dad nodded. "Good kids…good kids." I felt a burst of pride. And with that, the three of us lifted Dad and we struggled our way out, being attacked by numerous demons. On the outside of the hotel, I thought we had finally gotten to safety. I spoke way too soon.

A demon appeared out of nowhere, knocking Sam off his feet. The demon straddled him, delivering punch after punch. Dean placed Dad gently on the ground and sprinted to Sam's aid. I wasn't too far behind. Dean made an attempt to kick the demon in the face, but it was ineffective. With a wave of its hand, the demon sent Dean flying through the air and crashing straight onto the windshield of a car.

Fury bubbled in me, and I grabbed the demon's closed fist before he could use it to beat my brother yet again. I felt that power surge within me simmer to the surface and I was able to yank the demon from his straddle hold on Sam. I wrapped my arms around its throat, in an effort to strangle it. But it was too strong for me.

In a swift action, it swung me around and nailed me to the hard pavement on the street below. He positioned a rough knee painfully on my stomach, and grabbed both sides of my head. He slammed my head to the ground once…twice…and thrice. My vision steadily faded blotch by blotch. The very last thing I heard before I blacked out was an earsplitting gunshot.

~o~

My head was pounding against my skull. I felt slightly nauseous and when I tried to open my eyes, my vision was blurred. Dizzily, I quickly shut them before I could allow it to come into focus. My sense of touch kicked in and I realized I was lying on a stiff bed on my side, with a soft pillow underneath my head. Distinct mumbling was present and slowly but surely the voices became coherent. I recognized them as my brothers'.

Gradually, events came back to me. I remembered the apartment complex. I remembered the fire department and wearing the bulky uniforms. I could recall Dad unconscious on the bed, and splashing him with the holy water. And lastly I remembered the demon that attacked my family and me. He knocked me out by slamming my head repeatedly against the ground. Damn, that _hurt_!

How could I let myself get overpowered so easily by a demon? I felt ashamed. He tossed me to the ground so effortlessly. From the way they were speaking together, my brothers seemed to be fine, but I could have let them and our Dad down. Temporarily, I pushed aside the thoughts that were causing my head to throb and instead eavesdropped on my brothers' conversation, still keeping my eyes shut.

"Hey, Sam?" voiced Dean, sounding troubled. "You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there." Briefly, I recollected that I caught the bang of a gunshot just before I slipped unconscious. _'There was a person in there_'. Dean must have been mentioning the demon that knocked me out. He must have shot it…with the Colt.

"You didn't have a choice, Dean," Sam reassured softly. "It was about to kill her." I felt a shock. Maybe that demon hadn't been finished with me after it hit me unconscious. It had…it had gone for the kill. And my brother saved me.

"I know," Dean said quickly. "That's not what bothers me."

"Then what does?"

There was a long pause. And then Dean swallowed and replied, "Killing that guy; killing Meg. I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. For you or Lucy or Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill it's just…it scares me sometimes." I felt a lump in my throat and a rush of love for my oldest brother. Guilt followed with the thought in my mind that I was too feeble, and he was forced to come to my rescue.

"It scares me that I can't," I blurted, rustling from my position on the bed. Both of my brothers started in surprise, unaware of my wakefulness. Sam hurried to my side, making sure I kept my head down.

"Take it easy, okay? You hit your head pretty hard," Sam babied. I sat up despite his protests, ignoring my pounding skull.

"That's the point," I persisted. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and moved to sit on the edge of my bed. Or…whoever's bed this was. Now that I think about it…I had no idea where we were. But I disregarded that for the moment and continued, "I can't even handle one little demon? How the hell am I supposed to help with the big ones? Like _the_ demon. I'm…I'm _weak_, guys."

"Hey!" Dean asserted. I looked him in the eyes. "Lucy, you are _not_ weak. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, and I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm your big brother. These demons are unpredictable. They're tough motherfuckers, okay? You can't beat 'em all. That's why we're all together. We help each other."

"You're brother's right, Lucy."

The three of us siblings turned in unison. Our Dad had snuck into the room at some point when we were speaking, and listened in to the ending of our conversation. I felt a wave of relief when I observed that he was basically unharmed, despite a healing cut on his lip and some scratches on his face.

"And you shouldn't be scared, Dean," Dad continued, smiling at his oldest son. "You did good."

Dean couldn't figure out what to reply. Staring at Dad, he settled on, "You're not mad? For using a bullet?"

"Mad?" Dad questioned and shook his head. "I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. Lucy struggles with keeping her focus—gets dependent sometimes. But you – you watch out for this family. You always have."

Dean was speechless. Dad's never said anything like that to him before. Dad wasn't exactly one to wear his emotions and it was a bit challenging to read him. Needless to say, Dean was baffled and slightly concerned. "Thanks," he muttered. From outside, the wind rustled against the window, and the lights zapped and flickered.

My family marched to the largest window and peered outside. I hopped up from the bed without thinking and dizziness instantly dominated me. I grabbed the wooden table in the center of the room to steady myself. Slowly I moved to the counter, resting there and halting my trek to my family.

"It found us. It's here," Dad stated, turning to my brothers and me. "The demon. Alright, Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door."

"Already did it," Sam countered.

"Check it, okay?" Dad ordered and Sam obeyed, leaving the room. Dad turned to me and insisted, "Lucy, just stay there. I don't want you straining yourself, I can tell how lightheaded you are right now. Dean, you got the gun?" Dean nodded. "Give it to me."

Pulling the gun out of his jeans, Dean replied, "Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation, it vanished."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Are you sure this gun can kill it?" I inquired doubtfully. Dean continued to hold his hand out.

"Yeah, I'm sure. And I won't miss," Dad reprimanded. "Now the gun. Hurry." But Dean was reluctant. I scrunched my eyebrows at him, wondering what he could possibly be thinking. This was _the demon_! Why was he acting so weird around our Dad? "Son, please."

I grew even more puzzled as Dean took several steps backward in caution. I shook my head. "Dean, what are you doing? Give it to him!" But he denied me as well.

"No," Dean rejected, shaking his head at me. "No, Dad would be furious. You and I both know how pissed he'd be that I wasted a bullet." He turned his eyes to Dad, who appeared just as bewildered as me. "He wouldn't be proud of me. He'd tear me a new one." He raised the colt, cocked it and concluded, "You're not our Dad."

Though I admit he had a point, I didn't believe it. It was crazy! We checked—he wasn't possessed, we made sure of it. "What do you mean he's not Dad? Who else would he be?" I cried. Dean only barely acknowledged me.

"Listen to your sister, Dean. It's me," Dad opposed.

"I know my dad better than anyone," Dean denied determinedly, "and you ain't him."

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Dad exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

"I could ask you the same thing," Dean retorted lowly. Sam re-entered the room and felt a bolt of shock at the sight in front of him.

"Dean, what are you doing? Lucy, what's going on?" he inquired, alarmed. I crossed my arms, leaning my body on the counter to remain steady.

"Dean thinks Dad's…well, not Dad," I responded.

"Because he's not!" Dean hollered, notably become more upset.

"Your brother has lost his mind," Dad growled.

"I think he's possessed. I think he's been possessed since we rescued him," Dean explained. He and Dad were having a stare down with each other, and my eyes switched between them uncertainly.

"Don't listen to him, kids," Dad said, addressing Sam and me.

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

"He's—he's different," Dean stammered.

"What do you mean different?" I blubbered.

"You know, we don't have time for this!" Dad snapped at Dean particularly, but also spared glances at Sam and me. "Kids, you wanna kill this demon, you've gotta trust me." Distressed, my eyes flicked between Dean and Dad. I chose not to choose. Instead, I pushed away from the counter and gripped Sam's arm. He glanced down at me, giving me a hopeless look. I returned it, letting him know I was just as lost as he was. "Sam? Lucy?"

I lowered my eyes to my shoes. Sam gaped at Dad debating the choice in his mind. Finally, he shook his head. "No," he said, moving us both towards our brother. I didn't look into my Dad's face, terrified that I'd see disappointment and betrayal there.

After a pause, I heard my father scoff. "Fine. You're so sure, go ahead…Kill me." I dug my nails into Sam's arm, biting down on my lower lip and forcing the tears that sprung to my eyes away. I had to trust my brothers on this. They goddamn better understand what they're doing. Dad was silent for even longer this time and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean start to falter, the gun in his hands lowering little by little.

I heard my father inhale and I took that moment to glance up. A smirk played on his face, and at that instant was when the uncertain feeling washed over me. "I thought so." My eyes widened—suddenly everything about him was different. He sounded…evil. And when he looked up…I discovered why.

I gasped when I spotted the hideous, sickly yellow eyes of the demon. Before I comprehended what was happening, I was flung backwards. But I never collided with the wall. In midair, heat burst around me and I hovered in front of the wall and dropped to the ground gently. My brothers weren't as lucky. Sam smashed against the wall with a grunt of pain, and Dean slammed into the opposite wall, releasing the Colt.

Though I seemed to not be under the demon's force like my brothers, I was still unable to budge. With a start, I recognized that the glowing light emanated from my body once more. It was the source of the warmth, and most likely the force that protected me from smashing into the wall behind me. In horror, I watched as the demon—Yellow Eyes—retrieved the abandoned Colt from the ground. Twisting it in his hands, he turned and glared right at me.

He began to chuckle—darkly, malevolently, mockingly. I shuddered. "Your little guardian…so eager to protect you," the demon laughed. Wait…_what_? His scornful smirk transformed into a terrible snarl. A look I definitely never fancied to see on my Dad's face ever again. "Oh, I hate those filthy bastards."

One little statement, yet it raised so many questions in me. My mind racing, I managed to get out, "_Guardian_?"

The demon's smirk returned and I gulped. "Long story. And just your luck, I'm not willing to tell it, kiddo," he jeered. He gave me a look of disgust and his eyes darkened. "No, I want nothing to do with you and your…_species_." My breath stopped. _What the hell did he mean by that_? I thought with absolute terror. The demon moved on from me, returning his focus to the gun in his hands and my brothers.

"What a pain in the ass this thing has been."

Sam breathed heavily. ""It's you isn't it," he sneered. "We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, you found me," Yellow Eyes smiled.

"But the holy water?" Sam asked. I nodded.

"Why didn't it burn you, it should have burnt you!" I added frantically.

"You think something like that works on something like me?" the demon ridiculed. I slumped in defeat. Sam attempted to push himself away from the wall, but the effort was pointless.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Sam growled, eyes blazing in fury.

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact," the demon jested and set the Colt down on the table, "here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy." My eyes met Dean's worriedly. It terrified me that he was aware of everything that was occurring with Sam…and me apparently. Sam glanced at the gun. Nothing happened. Whether he had even tried, I have no idea.

The demon mockingly chuckled at Sam, and turned away from him. His attention shifted to Dean, who was snarling at him from across the room. "Well, this is fun. I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this...this is worth the wait." I gritted my teeth furiously.

Addressing Dean, Yellow Eyes said, "Your Dad – he's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says "hi", by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood." My lower lip trembled and I attempted to lunge at him. But it was almost like something held me back…like something was shielding me from the demon.

Dean glowered. "Let him go, or I swear to God –"

"What? What are you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice." The demon advanced closer to Dean and I tensed over-protectively. _That son of a bitch better leave my brother alone._ "You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"Who…Meg?"

"The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?"

I sighed. We killed his family. Yellow Eyes had a family. And we killed it. Great. "You've got to be kidding me," Dean scoffed.

"What? You're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" the demon judged. Then, he smiled. "Oh, that's right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right."

"Oh that's it—"I growled, lunging. The force once again restrained me. I nearly screamed in frustration. Yellow Eyes glimpse at me in amusement, which only boosted my rage.

"You son of a bitch," Dean spat.

Sam intervened, much calmer. "I wanna know why. Why'd you do it?"

The demon spared a look at him. "You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?" He turned back to Dean and peeked at me, smirking. He backed up a few steps and informed, "You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him. Been shopping for rings and everything." He turned his attention to Sam, "You want to know why? Because they got in the way. In the way of my plans for you, Sammy. You...and all the children like you."

I swallowed. "Children like him? You mean like…like the psychic children? The kids like…Max Miller?"

The demon grinned and pointed a finger at me. "You know, you are the smartest one of your kind I've met. You catch on quick!" I narrowed my eyes at the demon. There it was again. The _species_ comment. The way he said it…he wasn't talking about humans. He was implying that I was…well, _not_ human. And that scared the shit out of me.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can't stand the monologuing." I couldn't even smile at my brother's antics.

The demon abandoned Sam, and crowded himself to Dean. "Funny, but that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them," Yellow Eyes taunted. The fury inside me grew even hotter, if possible. That was a lie. "Sam – he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you. And dear, sweet Lucy—daddy's little girl. Oh how he loves his baby girl. Much more than he's ever loved you."

"You're wrong," I growled menacingly. Entertained, the demon raised an eyebrow at me.

"That so?" he derided.

"Yeah. That's so," I hissed, baring my teeth. My voiced oozed a threat. "Cause you know what? _I need him_. My brothers and my father—who you're so kindly possessing—are my world. Dean has been there for me my whole life. He dedicated his _life_ to me and to Sam. So yeah. You're wrong. Cause I _damn well_ need him."

If I had peered at Dean, I would have seen that his eyes softened considerably. But I kept my eyes trained on the demon, who glared at me. In a low voice, he refuted, "Bet you feel all brave behind that forcefield your little friends set up for you." I huffed in frustration, getting really sick of the indirect, confusing answers he was spewing. He started to advance towards me, but Dean stopped him.

"Stay the hell away from my baby sister!" he roared ominously. When the demon whirled around, Dean distracted him from me, continuing, "And I bet you're real proud of your kids, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted 'em."

The demon didn't reply. In fact, he didn't seem to be affected at all. His head hung downward for a slight moment and I glared at him curiously. Then, his head shot up sinisterly. And Dean wailed in misery. In horror, I watched as blood poured from his chest, soaking his shirt on the left side.

"DEAN!" I shrieked and made a repeated attempt at a pounce. Again, I was prevented. This time, I actually did scream in frustration.

"Dean, no!" Sam shouted. Dean squirmed in pain, trying desperately to break away from the demon's hold on him as well as the torture it was aiming at him.

"Dad! Dad, don't you let it kill me!" Dean howled, and then cried out in anguish again as the demon gazed at him more fixedly. I felt hopeless…completely and utterly hopeless. Screw what Dean had assured me…I wasn't strong! I was _weak_. Tremendously and absolutely _pathetic._

"Daddy, break away from it!" I called as an ultimate endeavor. "You can control it! _Please, _Daddy!"

"Shut up," the demon growled nastily at me. The shield around me blazed brighter. Dean hollered loudly, the pain blinding him to all other senses. Vulnerable tears dripped from my eyes and I muttered 'Dean, Dean' repeatedly as he suffered. Blood sputtered from my brother's mouth. With a final glare, Dean slumped and his eyes closed.

"_Dean_! _No_!" Sam bellowed at the top of his lungs, continuing to struggle against the force pinning him. I could only sob frantically, collapsing to my knees. No. Not my brother. Not Dean. Anyone but Dean. Anyone but my family.

"Stop." My head shot up at my Dad's voice. That most certainly was not the demon. That was _my Dad_. He did it. He regained control. "Stop it." Sam's feet hit the floor and I realized he was free. I felt…liberated myself. Checking my arms, I noticed the glow had faded. But I was frozen stiff.

Sam didn't waste the opportunity. He sprinted to the Colt, stumbling over himself and pointed it directly at Dad. When Dad faced him, I felt nauseous as I found that my dad's brown eyes had vanished. I stared into those foul yellow eyes once again.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy," Yellow Eyes reminded my brother.

"I know."

Without hesitation, Sam fired the Colt, shooting our father unswervingly in the leg. A small shriek of fear escaped me and I watched as electricity jolted from the wound, and throughout my Dad's body. He crumpled to the ground. Dean was next. The invisible force against him was lifted, and he fell to the floor. Sam was at his side in an instant.

As Sam fussed over our injured brother, I crawled over to our Dad. "Daddy?" I gasped, still weeping slightly. Though I was extraordinarily concerned for my oldest brother, it was my Dad who was unresponsive. I ignored my dreadful thoughts and placed a hand over my Dad's. I took it, and tried to shake him awake. "Daddy? Oh, please don't do this to me. Daddy?"

I felt a presence beside me, and I noted that Sam had joined me. "Dad?" he questioned, uncertain. "Dad?"

Dad suddenly came to life, taking a hissing, jagged breath. I jumped back, startled. "Sammy!" he yelled. "It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son!" Sam initially obeyed, aiming the gun straight at our Dad. "Do it now!"

With wide, panicked eyes, I looked up at my brother. "_No, Sam!_"

"Sam, don't you do it. Don't you do it," Dean entreated, shaking his head painfully. Fresh tears exploded from my eyes as Dad continued to scream at Sam.

"You've gotta hurry! I can't hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I'm begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!"

My head was shaking frantically and I repeatedly muttered, "No," through choked sobs. Dean whispered weakly, "Sam, no." Sam hesitated for just a little bit too long.

Abruptly, Dad's head was thrown back. Smoke erupted from his mouth with an extensive, thunderous bellow. I stumbled back against the wooden table behind me, practically knocking it over. I panted, terrified. Just like the routine with Meg, the smoke pooled on the ceiling and shot towards the ground, eventually disappearing into the floorboards. My Dad lay breathless on the floor.

It wasn't exactly a victory…but I'd take it.

~o~

Dean's head rested on my shoulder. He was only partially conscious. My grip on him was so tight, I was surprised I wasn't harming him further. Sam was in charge of the wheel, pressing the Impala speedily down the road and to the nearest hospital. From the passenger seat, Dad winced in the pain caused by his wounded leg.

"Just hold on alright? The hospital is only ten minutes away," Sam reassured, mostly to Dad, but he additionally met my eyes in the front mirror. I nodded, giving him a soothing of a look as I could muster.

"I'm surprised at you Sammy," Dad admitted. "Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this. Killing this demon comes first—before me, before everything." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I knew he was willing to sacrifice himself to do in this demon. That's just…him. But my family was damn well more important to me than a measly kill.

"No sir, not before everything," Sam rejected.

"You're insane if you think I'm gonna put a hunt—put _revenge_—before my family," I whispered from the backseat. Dean shuffled, trying to look at my expression; but I calmed him, stroking his hair. Dad stared at me from the mirror. "Think if it was me. Think if it was Dean or Sam. Would you honestly kill one of us…for that demon?"

Dad stared for a moment longer, and then dropped my gaze, shaking his head. "No…no you're right. I would never." I nodded, satisfied that my point was absorbed.

Sam inhaled and began, "Look, we've still got the colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over alright? I mean, we already found the demon—"

I never saw it coming. I didn't realize what was happening until a searing pain slid across my neck. Blinding lights collided with the side of the Impala and glass shattered everywhere. I was choking. Warm, thick, coppery liquid poured onto my neck and chest and dribbled out of my mouth. Numbness initiated in my head and extended hastily to my whole body. My vision blacked.

And then…there was nothing.

~o~

**Yes. I am Satan. Hello. **


	11. Angels and Reapers

**Well…this turned out a lot longer and a lot more painful than I intended it to be. I actually started crying omg. I know the timeline is a bit off, and that's because I screwed it up in earlier chapters. So I kinda just went with it and…it worked out tragically perfect. This has a lot of info in it and a lot of feels and just…good luck. Thank you to all that read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 11  
Angels and Reapers**

A light breeze danced on my skin. The temperature just how I favored it—chilly, but not freezing. I caught a whiff of crisp, flowery air and the sound of airy chimes in the distance. From what I could sense, I was lying in soft, beautiful grass—it smelled absolutely _divine_ and it was just so comfortable. From behind my eyelids, I could determine it was bright, judging by the vivid red I could distinguish.

I couldn't recall what had happened. It's like everything recent vanished as I focused more and more on the relaxation I was experiencing. And then in a rush, it all returned to me. I jolted awake, my eyes shooting open—however, I closed them almost immediately afterwards, grunting in pain and rolling onto my stomach. That was bright. And by bright I meant _blinding_.

"Turn off those lights, goddamn," I groaned, rubbing my eyes. I tried again. The light was slightly more bearable this time, and I blinked my way through the initial searing. Little by little, my location came into view. The grass was first—I could only describe it as the most vibrant green I'd ever witnessed in my life. Starting with the wide barks, towering trees appeared next. They were lively and gave the impression as if they were dancing. Looking up, I observed the brilliant blue sky, littered with puffy, spongy clouds.

I was in a field of some sort. And…it was _beautiful_. The most gorgeous place I had ever seen. It was…it was like a _dream_. An epiphany hit me. _Of course_ this was a dream, idiot! Where else would I be? Slowly, I rose to my feet. I felt light and energized, and I began to take tiny steps. Problem is, I didn't know where I was going.

"Lucy?"

I whirled around. Nothing there. I twirled around in a circle, searching for the source of the melodic voice. Still nothing. I was alone.

"You cannot see me, for I have no human vessel. But I am here. Speak, and I will listen."

All the relaxation had evaporated from me. I suddenly felt frantic and disoriented as I continued to hunt for whatever was speaking to me in that elegant, musical voice. "Where are you? Who are you? What's going on?" I shot off questions, continuing to dart my eyes to every corner of the strange dream setting.

"Don't be afraid, Lucy Dianne Winchester. You are safe."

I huffed, uncertain where to look. "Yay for me," I grumbled sarcastically, crossing my arms. "You didn't answer my questions. Lemme try again. Who are you?"

"My name is Michael," the voice chimed. "I am an angel."

For a moment, I could only stare off into the field—into nothing. The information processed in my mind, numbly. Then, I giggled. "That's…that's a good one," I laughed and waved off the voice's comment. "No, but let's be serious here. _Angels?_ They don't exist. There's no God, there's no Devil. All that talk—that's just people trying to make themselves feel better about dying. Or trying to scare others into doing what _they_ think should be acceptable. If religion really did exist, I might as well just be cast down to Hell right now. I've lied…I've been with both men and women…I've killed _so much_. So, no. It doesn't exist. It can't."

The voice was silent for an extended amount of time. Wind rustled the remote chimes, filling the atmosphere with a gentle, melodious tune. I wished I could have appreciated it.

"You doubt yourself too harshly," the voice spoke delicately.

I scoffed, shaking my head. One arm remained crossed around my middle, while the other came up to massage my temple exasperatedly. "Where's my family?" I asked wearily. "What is this place? Where'd you take me?"

I should have prepared myself for the voice's next little tidbit of information. "You are in Heaven." My eyes widened and I stumbled back in shock. My arms dropped to my sides. I…_what did it just say_? My gaze darted around the dreamland once again. The place seemed so illusory—it made so much _sense_. But…no. _No_. I didn't want to believe it.

"Shit, am I…" I cried, trailing off. My voice dropped to a whisper. "…Am I…_dead_?"

The answer I was dreading came at once. "At the moment, yes, you are," the voice confirmed. My heart plummeted. Suddenly, the finishing details of my last memory revisited me. Blazing lights. Shattering glass. The Impala screeching along the pavement of the road. A slicing pain across my throat. Oh my god—oh my _god_. I was dead. Me…dead. What about my brothers? My father? Were they dead too? No, please no, not them.

I must have been silent for at least a minute, processing everything in my mind. This was…this was too much. I ran a hand through my tousled blonde hair, digging my fingers into tangles. I shook my head in disbelief. I had so many questions…and I chose to say _this _jewel.

"…And I made it into Heaven…_really_?" I pondered. "Well. That's a relief."

The voice chuckled, and its laugh gave the impression of soft, rolling thunder. "You are a humorous one, Lucy." I blinked a few times, shrugging.

"That…that wasn't meant to be humorous but…okay," I replied quickly.

"Your time on Earth is not finished. You are going to do great things, Lucy. You are going to help several humans alike as well as the future of Heaven. And that is why I'm resurrecting you. It is not your time to perish," the voice explained tenderly. My eyes widened again if only slightly.

"_What_? What do you mean 'great things'?" I questioned, just hardly managing to maintain my voice below a shriek. I received no answer. The scene of the field before me was already fading from my sight. "Wait! Seriously? You can't really just leave me with _that_! _Wait_!"

~o~

_October 31, 2006; 12:07 am_

I gasped for air, desperately pumping oxygen down to my breathless lungs and previously unresponsive body. My throat ached and was scratchy. Most of my body felt numb, and I struggled to remain conscious. My vision was indistinct and blotchy. I only distinguished blurs of colors: black, _loads_ of red and blue. The first sound that hit my eardrums was mumbling, followed a thunderous swishing.

I was only able to make out certain words. There was "alive", "impossible", followed by "dead", and "healed". My breath was shallow and wheezing. Through my numbness, I felt myself getting handled and raised, along with pads and braces being attached to random parts of my body.

"…Lucy..."

Was that my brother's voice? Weakly my eyes searched for him, through fuzzy images and all. "S…am?" I croaked. My voice wasn't even a whisper. When I tried again, attempting to project my voice, it didn't even come out at all. I mouthed his name. I had just enough energy for that single task.

My eyes fluttered closed and I fell unconscious yet again.

~o~

_November 1, 2006; 8:00 am_

_Beep._

_Beep._

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the consistent noise. Ugh, what _was _that? I blinked my eyes open, allowing myself to adjust to the dazzling lights around me. I observed that I was in a hospital room, lying on one of the typical minuscule beds. Looking down at my body, I took note of the white medical patient gown covering me as well as the IVs plugged into my arm.

I was _alive_. And I was _sore_. I groaned as ten different kinds of pain hit me like a truck (no pun intended). It was my neck in particular that ached—especially on the right side. I licked my dry lips, longing for glass of water…and like 20 painkillers.

"And she's awake!" an unfamiliar voice boomed. A man who I assumed to be my doctor strolled in the room, carrying a clipboard, water and a bottle of small white pills. I didn't reply and watched as the doctor hung the clipboard on a pin in my room and set the water and the bottle of pills next to me after isolating two separate ones onto the bedside table. "You gave everyone quite a scare. Looks like you got a guardian angel watching over you!"

I jumped at the term 'guardian angel'. Two phrases I had heard recently put together. "G-guardian angel?" I wheezed. Guardian. Angel. Guardian angel. My 'little guardian was so eager to protect me'. Michael from my dream called himself an angel. Was…was that voice—Michael—my guardian? The one that's been shielding me from Yellow Eyes?

"Must be," the doctor replied. "You—well; maybe you'd rather hear this from your brother rather than me."

The doctor chortled quietly when he watched me perk up at the word 'brother'. Without a word, I nodded eagerly. "I'll be right back then. Just make sure you take those pills, they're painkillers. You'll want them." The doctor left the room, and I obeyed, gulping the pills down graciously with cool water. Eagerly, I waited for my brother—whichever one he meant. God, I hoped my whole family was okay.

Ten minutes later, a new presence entered my room. Upon laying our eyes upon each other, we both slumped in relief. "Sammy!" I croaked with a wide grin. He beamed and rushed to my side. He delivered a kiss to the top of my head and took a hold of my right hand.

"_Lucy_!" he breathed in complete alleviation. "How do you feel?

I shrugged. "I'm fine, Sammy. I guess I'm a little sore. But that's pretty much it." I fleetingly ignored the troubled stare my brother was giving me. "What about you? And Dad and Dean? Are you all okay?" Sam frowned.

"I'm fine," he replied. He did seem to be, indeed, fine. My big brother sported a big bruise over his eye along with several little cuts scattered on his face. But other than that, he was unharmed. "But Dad and Dean are still out of it. Dean…he's um. He's got it the worst." I gulped, shoving down my true fright. I only nodded at my brother.

With a shaking hand, Sam reached out towards me. His fingers lightly grazed a spot on my throat and I winced slightly. He immediately pulled back his hand apologetically and he gazed at me with those wide, distressed, hazel eyes. I stared back and bit my lower lip anxiously.

I took a deep breath. "Sam?" I questioned.

He nodded, casting his puppy-dog eyes downward. "Yeah, Bean?" That's when I knew how bothered and petrified he was. Though he used it occasionally, the nickname Bean was primarily reserved for Dean and my Dad. I grabbed his hand and squeezed to console him.

"Did I…did I die?"

When he looked up, his eyes were tinged red and brimming with tears. He nodded, and exhaled sharply. "I—in the car after we crashed—it was a demon that hit us. I looked back at you and Dean and…" he trailed off, trying to hold back a sob. My own eyes filled with tears. "There was blood everywhere, Luce. You were coated in it. And your throat…it was sliced open. A shard of glass was sticking out. And I looked at your eyes and they were…they were wide open and just…dead."

Tears dripped down his cheek, and I gripped onto his hand more securely. He sobbed, "They pronounced you dead. And I just…I thought you were _gone_. I thought…I'd never get a chance to talk to my little sister ever again." I wiped away a tear of my own that had escaped. "And then…you woke up. They said the wound healed almost immediately and…you came back to life. They couldn't explain it."

We sat together, holding hands and sniffling. I sobbed out a giggle. "Look at us," I snorted, swiping at another tear in the corner of my eyes. "Blubbering like babies." Sam and I broke out in laughter, now both pushing away tears rolling down our cheeks. I felt a tinge of drowsiness starting to take over my body, but I fought it.

Shaking his head with a tearful smile, Sam asked, "Do you know what happened? How you came back?" I swallowed heavily, thinking back to the dream—hallucination—whatever it was. _That is why I'm resurrecting you_. I couldn't tell Sam about it—not now.

Slowly, I shook my head. "Nope," I lied. My eyes began to droop, and Sam took that as his cue to drop my hand and rise from his seat.

"Get some sleep, Lucy Bean," he proposed gently, placing another kiss on my forehead. My vision was growing unfocused. Sam hesitated in the doorway, turning back to me with a smile. "Happy birthday, Luce."

"Are you serious?!" I mumbled. My brother chuckled, and departed from the room.

~o~

_11:12 am_

I secretly shuffled down the busy hallways of the hospital, making sure not to alert the staff and nurses. The whole 'patient out of bed' thing probably wouldn't go down too well with them. I learned from the clocks and calendars posted that I had been asleep for about three hours and that it was 11 am on November 1st—the morning of my 20th birthday.

I located the room I was searching for and scuffled around the corner. Sam and my Dad were in the middle of a conversation. Dad was a little bit less cut up than Sam, but his arm was in a sling. Not to mention he was bed-bound. Before entering the room, I eavesdropped on their words curiously.

Sam was informing, "We put it in the trunk. They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83."

"All right. You've gotta clean out that trunk before some junk man sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby. He's like an hour out, he's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

"Okay, you go meet up with Bobby, you get that colt and you bring it back to me. And watch out for hospital security."

"I think I got it covered," Sam grinned, standing to leave. Finally, he noticed me in the doorway. "Lucy! Hey." Dad snapped his head around to look at me, and he smiled.

"Hey," I replied, stepping into the room.

"You shouldn't be up, they put you on bed rest for like the rest of the week—"

I giggled, strolling to my father's side. "_Relax_, dork, I feel fine. In fact, I don't even feel sore anymore. I guess that little nap did the trick." I kissed my Dad on the cheek and took a seat in the visitor's chair next to him. Turning back to my brother, I added, "Plus, why waste my birthday cooped up in some cramped bed?"

My Dad chuckled and Sam smiled. Nodding, he whirled around to make his way out of the room, but Dad stopped him in his tracks. "Hey." Dad grabbed a piece of paper, which Sam took and studied. "Here, I made a list of things I need, have Bobby pick them up for me."

"Acacia? Oil of Abramelin?" he read. "What's this stuff for?"

"Protection," Dad stated. Sam nodded and considering his words first, he exhaled deeply.

"Hey, Dad?" he uttered. "You know, the demon—he said he had plans for me and children like me. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

Dad shook his head, frowning at his son. "No, I don't." Sam nodded again, accepting this unwillingly. He departed from the room, leaving Dad and I alone. Smiling slightly, Dad turned his attention to me.

"You seem to be in tip top shape," he commented, earning a small grin from me. "But according to Sam…you weren't fine when we were brought here." My smile dropped considerably, as well as my gaze on my father. "Alright, what's going on?" Dad was frequently able to see through my exterior I built around myself. I constantly rammed down my emotions until I snapped—but Dad had always been able to detect when I did this.

I swallowed and shook my head slightly. "I-I don't know," I stuttered honestly. I inhaled profoundly and continued, "I know what happened to me. I died. And there's no way I could have…" I trailed off, mulling over the best approach. "I had this dream. _Weird_ dream. But it was so…part of me believes it wasn't just a dream."

"What do you mean?" Dad asked me.

"I was in Heaven," I elaborated. My Dad's eyes widened in surprise. "And there was this angel who was talking to me. I didn't see it, the angel. I could only hear its voice. It, um, it told me my time on Earth wasn't finished and that it was resurrecting me and…I woke up."

Dad absorbed this information. "So you think an angel brought you back?"

I scoffed and shook my head once more skeptically. "No, of _course_ not! Dad, angels don't exist! None of that stuff does." He couldn't seriously be buying this…could he?

Dad paused for an extensive time. Finally, the corners of his lips pricked up and he huffed a tiny laugh. "You know, your Mom—she used to tell you kids, well…used to tell the boys that angels were watching over them. She had these little statues placed around the house. Now, I've never been much of a believer in that kind of stuff either, but…but I believed in her."

I couldn't think of anything additional to say. Even Dad was telling me that it could have been real. That my dream could have been real. That freaking angels could be real. I wasn't quite sure if it was the fact that I couldn't believe it or if I just didn't desire to. If they in truth did exist, were they responsible for all the freaky occurrences I'd been experiencing?

Back in my hospital room, I stripped myself of the papery patient gown. I yanked on a pair of blue shorts with a white lace flower design as well as a white collared shirt and my white shoes. I felt excellent—like I'd never been in a car crash in the first place. I certainly didn't feel like I had _died_. I plopped down on the hospital bed, grabbing my cracked phone from the bedside table. It had just barely been saved and hardly worked. I was definitely going to have to replace it.

My head shot up when I heard a shuffling sound. My first instinct was to snatch for my knife or my gun and it took me a moment to remember I didn't have either on my person. I glanced around the room, searching for the source of the sound. My eyes fell on my water glass and I furrowed my eyebrows at it. That was it. It was now on the opposite side of the table. I inspected it intently.

It shifted again and I started in alarm. I reached out slowly, grabbing the top of the glass and lifting it. I set it down with a thump in the original place it had been, bewildered. Taking another glance around the room, I rose from my seat and hurried out of the room to head back to my Dad's.

The last theory I would have suggested would have been my oldest brother attempting to contact me from the spirit world.

~o~

_3:24 pm_

"Get everything out of the Impala?"

Sam had just stomped into the room and immediately up to the window, not even sparing a glance in neither mine nor our Dad's direction. I sat in the visitor's chair beside my Dad's bed, one leg crossed over the other. Sam barely acknowledged my question. "Sammy?" I voiced. "Earth to Sammy?"

Sam abruptly whirled on his heel, glowering. I jumped when he slammed his heavy duffel bag on the bedside table. I felt my stomach drop—he was furious. "Did you know what Dad was planning, Lucy?" he asked in the most civil tone he could muster. I furrowed my eyebrows in perplexity.

"…Planning?" I urged, glimpsing at Dad. I took it as not a good sign that he was sporting a frown.

"So he didn't tell you. You really think the both of us wouldn't find out?" he fumed, turning on Dad. Oh please no. Don't fight guys, not now.

"What are you talking about?" Dad asked patiently. I, however, wasn't as tolerant.

"And whatever you are talking about—_cool your jets_," I growled. Like I expected, he ignored me. This is precisely how their quarrels commenced, especially the particularly unpleasant ones. Like the one they had before Sam left for college. That one was _awful._ Sam or Dad would initiate it, Dean and I would try to calm them, we would be ignored and they would have a blow out. Every time.

"That stuff from Bobby—you don't use it to ward off a demon. You use it to summon one," Sam exclaimed, hovering over Dad. "You're planning on bringing the demon here aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown."

"I have a plan, Sam."

And that was the moment when the bomb dropped. "That's exactly my point!" Sam roared furiously. I recoiled and tears instantly sprung to my eyes. "Dean is dying, and you have a plan! You know what? You care more about killing this demon than you do saving you own son!"

"Stop," I whispered edgily. Sam turned to me, using a softer tone, but still speaking animatedly.

"No, Lucy, why can't you see it? He doesn't care about anything else—"

"Hey," Dad cautioned irritably. "Don't bring her into this, she didn't do anything wrong."

"I never said she did!" Sam shouted full force. When I blinked, the tears overflowed and seeped down my cheeks. I placed a shaky hand over my forehead, trying to block them out to the best of my ability. "Stop making me out to be the bad guy, you always do that! _You're_ the one that doesn't even care—"

Dad's voice broke its calm demeanor and I listened in exasperation as he starting giving into the brawl. "Do not tell me how I feel. I am doing this for Dean."

"_How_?" Sam cried, throwing up his hands. "How is revenge gonna help him? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself, it's the same selfish obsession!" The sobs started coming, and I soon found myself silently crying uncontrollably to myself. Just make it s_top_.

"That's funny, you know why?" Dad yelled, pointing a finger at Sam. "I thought this was your obsession, too. This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt! Now, if you killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened."

Sam moved to the direct front of the bed and replied spitefully, "It was possessing you. I would have killed you, too."

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now."

"Go to hell," my brother fumed in a dangerously cool tone. I choked back several sobs by gnawing on my bottom lip.

"Daddy, Sammy, please stop, just stop…"

I was once again, ignored. It's like I had vanished from the room to them. Dad declared heatedly, "I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake, I knew I was wrong—"

_Crash._

I jumped in my seat, startled by the sudden shattering of glass. Dad's glass of water was in pieces scattered across the floor. At first, I thought maybe Sam hurled it to the ground in anger—but that'd be a bit intense, even for him. But hey, it shut both Sam and Dad up. But by the way they were staring at it; nothing within our control had caused that.

Sam glanced up to meet my eyes, but upon noticing the tears streaking my face for the first time, his whole expression softened. "Oh Lucy," he muttered guiltily, and strode to my side. He took my hand and pulled me up gently, wiping some of the damp away from my cheek. He held me to his side. I leaned against him despairingly.

A commotion came from outside the room. Dad, Sam and I all watched as doctors and nurses raced past our room fleetingly. The argument forgotten, Dad motioned for Sam and me to follow the employees and investigate. We obeyed and I gripped my brother's hand as we sprinted down the hallway. They all seemed to be gathering at a room near the end of the hall. I was yanked back as Sam suddenly stopped in his tracks, looking horrified.

"What's wrong? Whose room is that?" I asked him. He gulped and turned to me with wide, frightened eyes.

"That's Dean's room," he whispered.

I didn't need to be told twice. I took the lead and nearly dragged him to the turmoil ahead. And I laid my eyes on my oldest brother for the foremost time since we had arrived at this hospital. I had been intentionally avoiding visiting Dean beforehand, merely because I had no desire to see him…like this. With tubes sticking out of his throat and various places hooked up to a million machines. It killed me inside.

I gripped onto Sam to prevent myself from collapsing to the floor in shock. I couldn't breathe. The heart beat monitor was ringing out one steady tone that everyone dreaded to hear. The doctors pressed a defibrillator to my brother's chest. Nothing was working. And my sobbing recommenced.

"_Dean_," I cried and stupidly tried to lunge for him. Sam restrained me, pulling me into a bear-like embrace. He rocked me soothingly and stroked my hair as I bawled into his chest. I pressed my face into my brother's shirt, incapable of viewing the scene in front of me. I couldn't block out the noise, however, and it increased my panic.

"We have a pulse," one of the nurses stated. My head shot up and my tearful eyes altered into hopeful. I exhaled sharply and it came out unsteady. My brother and I slumped against each other, temporarily relieved. Sam continued to sway me back and forth in a comforting rhythm.

"Happy birthday to me," I grumbled bitterly. Sam couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped him, and rested his cheek on the top of my head.

~o~

Sam swore he had felt Dean's spirit. He was convinced that Dean was having some sort of 'out of body' experience currently and was not only hanging around, but had been pushing back his dying day little by little. I was slightly skeptical, but my Dad replied, "Anything's possible." He spared an elongated look at me as he said this and I caught on promptly to what he was implying. He was bringing up the angel thing again—assuring me that my angelic resurrection was a possibility. I remained doubtful.

Well, I wasn't sure about angels, but Sam _was_ correct about Dean. Using an Ouija board (I repeat, I was extremely cynical), he contacted Dean. From the "other world", Dean informed us that he was being hunted by a reaper. By 'us', I mean me and Sam. Dad randomly disappeared. I hadn't the slightest idea where he could've gone.

Sam and I ultimately discovered absolutely nothing that would aid our dying big brother, and I was growing hopeless and terrified. What if we couldn't help him? What if he…what if this was the end? What if by the ending of the week, the Winchester sibling trio would be down to a duo? No just…_no_. I couldn't function without Dean. I _needed_ Dean.

And suddenly, completely out of the blue. _Dean woke up_.

~o~

_November 2, 2006; 10:20 am_

"I can't explain it," the doctor marveled. I managed to squeeze myself next to Dean on the bed and had one arm draped around his shoulders, stroking his short sandy brown hair. My brother appeared to be fine, as the doctor confirmed. He explained that all the conditions had vanished and added, "I gotta say, angels must really like your family. I mean you and your sister—you're both miracles!"

Dean apparently didn't remember anything from his time spent as a spirit, not even the reaper. The only bit he knew was that something felt off to him. Both of my brothers and I agreed on that unanimously. The day felt…foreboding. Maybe it was caused by the day itself. I mean, it was the anniversary of both Mom and now Jess's deaths. It was kinda a given to feel a bit creepy on this day.

"How you feeling dude?" Dad smiled at Dean, entering the room. I raised my eyebrows at him accusingly. This was the first time he'd made an appearance since he disappeared on us the previous night. Still, I was joyous to see him, and I grinned in spite of myself.

"Fine I guess," Dean answered. "I'm alive."

"Well that's what matters."

"Where were you last night?" Sam intervened, an accusing tone quite obvious in his voice. I rolled my eyes. _You've got to be fucking kidding me_.

"I had some things to take care of," Dad answered calmly.

"Well that's specific," Sam retorted sarcastically. "Did you go after the demon?"

"No."

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?" Sam pressured, voice beginning to rise. I had enough.

Through gritted teeth, I scolded, "Samuel John Winchester, if you start anything right now, I will kick you in the shin. I will not _hesitate_."

The room fell silent for a split second…and then my Dad began to chuckle lightly. "That was…a harsher way of putting what I'm trying to say but I agree…can we not fight right now? You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Look, Sammy I've…I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

A lump formed in my throat as I observed the exchange. With everything that has happened, it was just so damn relieving to hear that. Let's hope that little suggestion would last for at least a few days. Ignoring Sam's questioning look, Dad asked, "Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"

Sam slowly nodded, and left the room with one fleeting, curious glance at our Dad. Dad stared after him sorrowfully, before turning to me with a smile. I felt a tinge of worry at his expression…something wasn't right. Why was he acting like this?

"You look like your mother," he grinned. I was taken aback by the unexpected comment. Dad's eyes flickered between Dean and me. "You both do actually…Lucy, I…I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you. For having such a rough life, you grew up so well the past 20 years. And…you'll be okay. Everything will be okay. You'll be well watched over…especially by your big brothers."

_Now_ I was extremely worried. Crossing my arms, I inquired fretfully, "Dad…what's going on?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "Don't you worry. Just…I love you, my Lucy Bean." Uncrossing my arms, I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him. He rubbed my back lovingly and…soothingly. I felt my anxiety building up.

"I love you too, Daddy," I mumbled against his shoulder. He placed a kiss on top of my head and released me.

"Do you mind waiting outside for a little bit? I gotta talk to your brother alone," he requested. Still uneasy, I nodded and obeyed his orders. I waited a bit impatiently with my back against the wall, tapping my fingernails in a nervous habit. Dad emerged about five minutes later. He urged me to return to the room, telling me he had to "deliver something".

Strolling back into Dean's room, we shared a cautious look. "What'd he say to you?" I asked inquisitively. Dean shook his head, frowning

"Just something about Sam," he replied.

"What about Sam? Did he say anything about me?" I persisted. Dean frowned even deeper.

"Nope. Just Sam. But I can't tell you yet. I can't even tell _Sam_ yet. But damn, Dad was acting weird. I don't know, Luce, I gotta bad feeling."

I nodded in agreement. And with good reason. When Sam hurried into the room no less than five minutes later…everything became a blur. Sam ushered us to a different, busier room where doctors and nurses crowded around a bed. On the bed was my Dad, lifeless and cold. I clung to my brothers, fresh tears rolling down my face. The compressions weren't effective. He had no pulse. And the phrase I dreaded most sounded from the head doctor's mouth.

"Time of death: 10:41 am."

~o~

_November 23, 1998_

_Lucy was trapped. The ghost slammed the door behind her and bolted her into the enclosed wooden room. She had no escape. God, she just felt so _stupid_. If she had just listened to her father and stayed behind like she was supposed to, none of this would have ever happened._

_It was her 15-year old brother Sam who informed their Dad she was missing. It only took him a handful of minutes to determine where she had ventured off to. His young daughter had been pressing for the past year to go on her first hunt. And so she did. Sighing worriedly, John sped the Impala down the highway, breaking several speed limits._

_Lucy had possession of the necklace the spirit was attached to. However, her lighter as well as her rock-salt-filled gun had been knocked away by the livid, vengeful ghost herself. Clutching the necklace tightly, she stumbled against the hard wall, scurrying away from the malevolent spirit that was advancing on her menacingly._

"_Lucy!"_

_The 12-year old girl almost laughed in relief when she heard her father's voice from the other side of the door. But as much as he kicked and shoved, the door was sealed shut. However, the banging distracted the ghost substantially. Lucy didn't waste the opportunity. She crawled hastily over to her discarded gun and lighter. The ghost whirled around with a scream of fury just as Lucy cocked the gun and fired._

_The ghost vanished, but Lucy knew it was only temporary. She fumbled with the lighter and the necklace in her shaky, frantic hands. Getting a hold on them both, she rolled her thumb on the lighter, quickly igniting it. The spirit appeared abruptly, sending her flying backwards with a loud thump. But it was too late. The ghost wailed as she burst into flames and her necklace transformed into ashes._

_Panting heavily, a laugh bubbled to Lucy's lips. Her father was finally able to kick in the door, and he bolted immediately to his daughter's side, checking her over for injuries. "What the hell were you thinking, Lucy Dianne? You could have gotten hurt! You could've gotten killed! You scared me half to death!" John scolded her._

"_I know, Daddy," Lucy panted, grasping onto her father dependently. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking straight and I wanted to prove a point and—I'm sorry."_

_John stared at his youngest child for a moment longer…and began to cackle. Confused, the girl tilted her head at her Dad. "You did it, Bean. You took on this hunt practically all by yourself…and you did it. You have any idea how proud I am of you right now?"_

_Lucy's eyes widen in shock. He'd…he'd never said that to her before. She shook her head slightly, puzzled. "You're…not mad?" Her father laughed again._

"_Oh no, I am furious. But still proud."_

_This time the young girl couldn't help but laugh alongside her father. John pulled his daughter into a hug, grinning into her blonde waves. She gripped back tightly, cherishing the quality time she had with her father. John could only manage one thought._

'_I will never let anything hurt you.'_

~o~

**I'm so sorry.**


	12. The Rickety Roadhouse

**Helllooo everyone! So this chapter's a bit shorter and more of a filler chapter, but still muy importante! And I'm excited to see what people think of this one (if they have any opinions about it at all) and the upcoming story line and stuff. Plus—and I need to get this out now—JO AND ELLEN AHHHHHHHH!**

**Other stuff I feel the need to get out now: AHHHHH SEASON 9, 26 DAYS! AHHHHH SEASON 9 PREVIEW, cAS MY POOR BABY! AHHH SEASON 8 BLOOPERS, BABY DADDY, COCKLES, DESTIEL, I CAN'T!**

**Ahem. Okay. I think I'm good now. Onwards! (Disclaimer: I only own my Lucy!)**

**~o~**

**Chapter 12  
The Rickety Roadhouse  
**_November 16, 2006_

It's been two weeks. Two whole weeks since my Dad had died. Two whole damn weeks since my entire world had been flipped upside down. I could barely eat. When I actually slept, I had nightmares. All I could see was my Dad's lifeless body lying on that table. All I could picture were reapers dragging him off to God knows where. He was dead. He was gone. And I wasn't handling it sufficiently.

The worst part would have to be watching my father's body burn to ashes. My brothers and I bestowed to him a proper hunter's funeral: cremating his remains over a pyre. My queasy stomach upturned as it took place. I mean, this wasn't just another death. This was my _Dad_. He and my brothers meant the world to me—_were _the world to me. And now he was gone. Just like that.

My brothers and I were all coping a bit differently. Sam's always been more open with his feelings. He was churning out this new obedience streak, but I could tell he obviously felt guilty. Guilty that he'd spent his last moments with Dad fighting. Dean, however, wasn't exactly the touchy, feely type. His wore his tough guy persona, hardly showing any emotion. Like he was hardly affected at all. Put together, they were butting heads a little bit, especially on the topic of Dad. Dean had even told a tearful Sam that Dad hadn't said anything before he died. I knew that was a lie—but I kept my mouth shut.

I had always been a mix. A mix between my brothers. A mix between my parents. I guess you could say I had a little aspect of everyone in my family. For example, take 'macho man' Dean and 'sharing is caring' Sam. I fell smack dab in the middle of that. I was a crier—I wasn't afraid to admit that. So I was similar to Sam in that feature. But I had a tendency to shove down my emotions and stash them in a bottle, like Dean. With Dad's death, it felt like I had already cried enough to fill the whole goddamn ocean…but if anyone were to ask, I would have advised them that I was A-okay. Completely fine.

We've resided at Bobby's now for most of the two weeks. The Impala had been lugged off to his salvage yard and Dean had done nothing but slave over his baby since we'd gotten here—I thought that reconstructing it was kinda Dean's way of dealing with Dad's death. In the aftermath of the crash, the car was—to put it lightly—trashed. Bobby informed us that it was basically scrap metal now, but Dean insisted. Honestly, I was with Dean on this. That car…there were so many memories in it. I would be wrecked if we had to ditch it.

After snatching a cold beer out of the fridge, I plopped back down in my chair, sighing as I scanned over the books in front of me. I had been doing some intensive research for myself. I took a sip and skimmed through the pages seeking something…anything that might connect to angels. The whole 'angel' thing wouldn't escape my mind. These so called angels—did they really exist? Was I actually getting visited by them?

I slammed a book closed, huffing in frustration. I'd dug through almost every book Bobby had. There was nothing. Absolutely freaking nothing about freaking angels. So…that's it. My little afterlife adventure must have been a dream. But how could I have been dreaming when I was _dead_? It just didn't make a lick of sense.

Sam strolled into Bobby's, shutting the door behind him just a little too harshly. "Don't slam that damn door, boy!" I heard Bobby shout from a different room. Sam and I shared a look and burst out in a short chuckle. Sam ambled towards me and sat in the seat opposite of me, setting his phone on top of one of the tossed aside books.

"So, I talked to Dean," he started. "We're gonna head out to that Ellen lady's place in about an hour. Who knows? Maybe she knows something about the demon." Sam had cracked into Dad's voicemail, and discovered a message from four months ago left by a woman named Ellen. She had she could help.

I nodded, taking another sip of my beer. "Sounds good," I replied in a singsong voice. It wasn't until then when I noticed Sam's vaguely annoyed expression. "You okay, sweetie?"

Sam heaved a sigh, frowning. "It's just…Dean's just being so…frustrating about all of this. I mean, Dad's _dead_. You know, I had figured he'd do something, _say _something. But he doesn't. With him, it's like it never happened. I mean, how can he act like that?"

I shrugged and replied, "He's Dean." Sam raised his eyebrows, tempting a better response out of me. I sighed. "You know Dean's always been the strong and silent type. It's just…gonna take him a bit longer I think. With Dad gone, I just don't really think he knows how to deal with it. You don't know how to deal with it; _I_ don't know how to deal with it."

Sam huffed, staring off into space. "Yeah, I guess. I'm just…I'm worried about him, you know."

I gave him a small, comforting smile. "I know. And you're a good brother." Sam breathed a laugh.

~o~

"Very inviting."

Sam glanced in my direction and shrugged at my comment. Ellen's address—or as we learned, the Roadhouse—was…well, a dump. Sam directed us to some practically abandoned, worn down bar in Medford, Wisconsin. It was in the middle of virtually nowhere with not a guest in sight, nor a car in the dirt filled parking lot. Besides our own—Dean despised that hunk of old metal we were borrowing.

"Hello?" Sam called, checking the exterior of the wooden building. "Anybody here?" He tossed a lock-pick to Dean, and my oldest brother unbolted the door quickly and efficiently. The inside of the bar was just as empty as the outside. The three of us halted in the doorway, examining the place and exchanging a quick look followed by shrugs.

Dean gestured to the pool table ahead of us. On top of it lay a lump that was clad in plaid and had a hell of a lot of hair. Sam attempted to get his attention, but he was completely zonked out. "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen," Sam pointed out. I smirked, leaning on a railing that was close by.

"Eh well, he has enough hair, just add some boobs," I joked. Sam ventured off, exploring a different room. I sauntered over to the bar, checking to see if anyone was available at all. It seemed too quiet…too empty.

"Oh god, please let that be a rifle," Dean's voice said from behind me, and the sound of a gun cocked. I whirled around to face my brother only to find him held at gunpoint by someone I'd never seen before. She was about my age and my height, maybe a little older and taller. She had long, shimmering golden hair and big brown doe eyes. And _god_—she was one of the most stunning girls I'd ever seen in my life.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," the girl retorted. "Don't move. Either of you." She pointed the gun at me for a slight second. Dean managed to grab the gun from her, believing her outsmarted her. But delivering a swift punch to my brother's face, she regained control of it. As Dean clutched his face and called for Sam, I couldn't prevent the small amused smile that found its way to my lips.

"Okay, you're good," I laughed. The beautiful girl smiled prettily at me.

"Thanks!"

"Sorry Dean," Sam apologized, entering the room with his hands behind his head. "I'm a little…tied up." From behind him emerged another woman with a gun raised on my other brother. She was a bit older, maybe in her 40's or 50's, with shiny brown hair. Looking between the two women, I assumed this must have been a mother-daughter pair.

"Sam? Dean?" the middle aged woman questioned, glancing between my brothers. She switched her gaze to me. "Is your name Lucy by any chance? Winchester?" When I nodded in conformation, she uttered, "Son of a bitch."

"Mom, you know these guys?" the blonde girl asked.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's kids," the woman concluded. My brother's and I swapped identical looks of curiosity. The woman's demeanor transformed instantly. She laughed joyfully and amicably, dropping her gun. Her daughter slowly followed her lead. "Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo." I offered a smile in greeting, grinning particularly shyly at the daughter Jo.

"You're not gonna hit me again are you?" Dean grumbled at Jo. I rolled my eyes, but wore a smile.

"You're such a baby," I commented.

"Hey! She hits hard okay!"

My brothers and I claimed seats that we were offered, as Ellen and Jo stashed their rifles safely behind the bar. I made fun of Dean as he clutched his face overdramatically, laughing even harder as he complained at me to shut up. Ellen handed him a towel filled with fresh ice, which he accepted graciously. Jo leaned up against the bar, facing us. I couldn't help but stare a little. Unfortunately, she noticed.

With a smile, she asked, "What?"

I flushed, my eyes darting away quickly. "N-nothing." If I would have looked up at her, I would have spotted the amused beam that formed on her face.

Dean placed the ice over where Jo nailed him and looked up at Ellen questionably. "You called our Dad, and said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," she answered with a shrug. Wait, how'd she know about the demon? Dean, Sam and I all exchanged a look, informing each other that we were thinking unanimously. "I heard he was closing in on it."

Dean threw up his hands and scoffed. "What was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed? I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"And how do you know about the demon? Did our Dad tell you?" I added in, sparing a glance at both of the women.

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen assured defensively. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. And yeah, he told us about the demon. In fact, John was like family once."

"Oh yeah?" Dean shot back. "How come he never mentioned you before?"

"You'd have to ask him that."

That was the statement that did it. I frowned and whisked my eyes swiftly down to my shoes, trying to hide the tears that pricked at my eyes. I hated being this overemotional, and I detested the fact that I couldn't prevent it especially. It was…too soon I guess. "You okay, hon?" I looked up at Ellen's concerned question, nodding and managing a forced smile.

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean inquired bitterly.

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." Ellen trailed off, her eyes widening slightly as she came to a realization. "He didn't send you." My brothers and I remained silent, and she took that as an answer. "Is he okay?"

None of us replied for a long instance. Finally, I glanced up and whispered, "Two weeks." Ellen's eyes widened slightly greater as she processed my response. Sam helped me finish explaining, adding in a few more details.

"It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess," he elaborated. Ellen shook her head apologetically.

"I'm so sorry. I know how close you and your Dad were."

"Really, lady, we're fine. I'm fine," Dean grumbled. I elbowed him, reminding him to remain civil.

"So look," Sam started, sparing a slightly irritated peek at Dean. "If you can help, we could use all the help we can get." I nodded in agreement, ignoring Dean's eye roll.

"Well, we can't," Ellen replied, exchanging a look with her daughter. "But Ash will. Ash!"

I jumped and whirled around at the sudden shuffling that sounded from behind me. The passed out lump with the mullet suddenly jerked awake, flailing around in all directions. I almost laughed at the initial shock. "What? It closing time?"

I whipped back around, facing Jo with a smirk and a quirked eyebrow. "Billy Rae Cyrus over there is our help?" I questioned doubtfully. Jo barked out a charming laugh, causing my eyebrows to rise further into my hairline. She did have a cute laugh though.

"Give him a chance…he's actually a genius," Jo promised.

As it turned out, she was right about him. Though a tad quirky and radiated the whole 'washed out rocker/drunk in bar' thing, he was _insanely_ intelligent. And I'm not just talking basic book knowledge; I mean…this guy went to MIT. That came as a huge shock to me. Sometimes you just gotta understand that the phrase 'don't judge a book by its cover' is surprisingly exceptionally accurate. But anyways, he was assisting my brothers and me by tracking this demon. Maybe with his aid, we'd actually make progress on hunting this thing once and for all.

Dean, being his good ol' self, spent a great deal of his time at the Roadhouse trying to flirt with Jo. And I think she was flirting in return. I should have probably expected that. I still couldn't avoid the twinge of jealousy I felt over the whole situation…towards my _brother_ no less. Which was stupid because…c'mon, I wasn't even certain if she swung that way. Plus, I had more significant issues to worry about.

Ellen uncovered a hunt for us located in a nearby town. This one was, I gotta admit, pretty freaking weird and creepy. We were dealing with—get this—_killer clowns_. Even better, killer clowns that ripped parents to shreds in the middle of the night, but left children unharmed. Witnessing the look on Sam's face when we started on this peculiar hunt was priceless. Well, it _was_ his turn. Dean lived through the demonic plane ride of doom, I faced the murderous swarms of cursed bugs…and now Sam got to deal with his little nightmare.

Long story short, it wasn't the handiwork of clowns per se. It was a Rakshasa—some disturbing thing that fed off of human flesh but had to be invited inside and slept on beds of dead insects ("You've gotta be kidding me," I had groaned). Kinda like vampire myths only—you know—flesh instead of blood. Well anyway, point is, we killed it. Like usual. Though a few interesting new details were brought up within my family during this particular job. For one, Sam was reconsidering his decision to return to school.

Sam informed Dean and me that he was having "second thoughts" about school ever since Dad died, because "Dad wanted him to stick with the job." "Do you have a problem with that?" Sam had prompted my oldest brother, who was struggling to grasp Sam's new attitude towards Dad and hunting in itself.

"Nah, I don't have a problem at all," he replied, with a bit of a sarcastic undertone, and strutted off. Sam huffed, staring after him, and then directed his attention to me.

"Lucy?"

"No problems here," I countered, but it was slightly bitter in a way. "Yeah you know I just wish…I wish you felt that way before he died. It would have saved a lot of stress." I didn't intend that statement to sound harsh, or guilt trip him—but I think that's how it might have slipped out. But on the other hand, Sam never realized what it was like to stand on the sidelines of those brawls that he and Dad fought. He never put himself in my shoes, or recognized how difficult or hurtful it was for me.

My brothers continued to be on the edge of each other's nerves about this whole 'sharing our feelings' thing about Dad's death. Sam insisted that Dean was dodging the subject altogether and hence evading coping with it. Dean maintained his denial, and assured that he was "okay" and "dealing" and that Sam was the one that wasn't handling it well.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad," Dean scolded our middle brother irritably. "It's like, 'oh, what would Dad want me to do?' Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late."

Sam clipped, "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?" Dean exclaimed. Sam only stared at him for a few moments, silently fuming. I crossed my arms, my gaze flicking exasperatedly between my two older brothers.

"I'm going to call Ellen," Sam announced in a low, angry voice and stormed off to the other side of the road. I focused my full, accusing stare onto my oldest brother until he finally met my eyes, and rolled his.

"Stop looking at me like that!" Dean demanded. I raised a brow. "What? You and I both he's only taking on this whole 'Daddy's perfect kid' act cause he feels guilty about butting heads with him even in his last moments. I'll say it again—_I am fine_. I'm dealing with Dad's death just fine! Okay?"

I shook my head, stepping closer to my brother. "I don't think you are, Deany—hold on," I interrupted just as he was about to rant again. "Look, I don't think _any_ of us are. I mean, I agree with you about Sam and the obedience phase he's going through. We're all trying to get through this differently, and that's his method. Look at me, I'm constantly crying. I'm even more dependent—if that's even possible. And you. You're avoiding."

"I'm _not_ avoiding—"

"You're avoiding," I ruled. Dean huffed in frustration. "Deny all you want, Dean. I know my big brothers. I know you."

Dean rolled his eyes once more. "Whatever, Bean. Come on, we gotta get moving if we wanna get there in time." My brother cut ahead of me, reassuring that all conversation was discontinued. I sighed, shaking my head. That was my irritating, stubborn brothers for ya!

After the hunt, we headed back to the Roadhouse. This time it was actually not wholly abandoned! A majority of the guests were hunters I assumed. Anyhow, Ash informed us that he was unable to track the demon at the moment, but he'd know its exact location the second it showed itself. You know, Ash was pretty cool. Much cooler than I expected him to be. If I wasn't too distracted by someone else in the room, I maybe would have reciprocated his efforts at flirting with me.

It'd been two weeks since Dad died…and I wasn't over it. Not in the slightest. I sat perched on the dusty wooden front steps of the Roadhouse, staring out into the distance, lost in thought. I mulled over how terribly I missed my father—god I wish he could be here. I wasn't prepared for this—for any of this. It wasn't his time to go. He was only 52. The more intense and mournful my thoughts became, the heavier my tears formed. Eventually, my whole body was racking with sobs. I couldn't stop them.

"Hey, you okay?"

I jumped at the voice, whirling around to face her. Jo cautiously approached me, a concerned expression on her face. I breathed a nervous giggle, mopping fat tears from my face, embarrassed. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, I'm fine," I croaked, desperately wiping the remains of the tears. Slowly, Jo advanced to my side, and took a seat beside me. She smiled kindheartedly.

"It's okay to cry you know. I'm not gonna judge you," she reassured comfortingly. Wiping the last tear from the corner of my eye, I chuckled.

"Yeah but," I started teasingly, "I don't show emotion…I robot." The girl and I met eyes—brown to green—and shared a cackle. She bit the corner of her lip, trying to calm her smile.

"You're funny," she commented jokingly. I returned with a joking eye roll.

"Thanks," I replied, slightly sarcastically. There was a comfortable pause between us, and I pondered something she had told my brothers and me yesterday. "I hope this isn't too personal, but when your father died…how'd you deal with that?"

Jo considered this, and then shrugged. "I mean, I was just a little kid—I was 10 actually," she answered quietly. I watched her curiously as her emotions altered and she contemplated her words. Meeting my eyes, she smiled slightly at me. "I've always hated school. I just never fit in there. It was so…_irritating_ attending everyday and none of the people there knew. They didn't know what was out there and that there were normal people like you and me that saved them every day. They just knew me as the freak with the dead father."

I listened to the girl's speech fixedly, studying her intently. With a small grin, she continued, "Our Dads…_my_ dad…they were heroes. And when my dad died, I decided I wanted to be like him. I guess that's how I dealt with it. I trained and I learned." She took a moment to roll her eyes glumly. "Too bad I'm not allowed to go on hunts according to my overprotective mother. You're lucky you and Sam and Dean get to do it so often."

I smiled sorrowfully, staring down at my shoes. I ran a hand through my hair, rustling it as a nervous habit. "Yeah, you know," I started deliberately, "I've always liked hunting. I like the feeling, I like the effects. But…it's never really felt_ real_ until now. Now that my Dad's gone…"

Jo's eyes were sympathetic, and oddly, that was exactly what I needed to see. "I really am sorry about that. The last time I saw him was when I was 9. I always like him. He used to pass by and stop into the Roadhouse on hunts—show me some of the stuff in his journal. I used to call him Uncle John." She trailed off with a chuckle. I couldn't help but notice how her eyes sparkled when she smiled. "He talked about you three a lot…he really loved you and your brothers."

Tears pricked at my eyes once again, and I stubbornly squeezed my eyes to prevent them from falling. My heart leaped in surprise when I felt Jo's hand softly slip into mine in an effort to console me. I glanced up into her beautiful brown eyes and soothing smile, and eventually managed a tiny one for myself.

I jumped when I heard Dean call my name and raised my eyes to see him beckoning me towards him. Both he and Sam were loading our possessions into a small, beat up car that Ellen had allowed us to borrow for the time being. Smiling at the girl once more, I dropped her hand and stood, preparing to leave. Just as I began to walk away, she called:

"Hey, Lucy!" I twisted around in response. Jo beamed. "Come by and see me any time, okay?" I grinned brightly, warmth flushing to my cheeks faintly.

"Will do."

~o~

**A lot of Jo's speech at the end is based off of "Jo's Blog". And so…I'm excited. Lotsa fun stuff coming up. And in case you wanted to know, I can confirm there are 3 (possibly 4) Character/OC pairings in this story (3 are with Lucy—the possible 4th pairing is a different OC I created and will not include Lucy). I can also confirm that none of those will be with the 4 main characters (Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby). But that's pretty much it :)**

**Reviews make me happy! ^.^**


	13. Visions and Jealousy

**This one's also pretty short, I'm thinking the next few might also be. I'm just really excited to get a move on with this story—especially Tall Tales and a few other fun things! Sorry if it seems rushed, I just don't wanna bore people with endless dialogue, ya know :)**

**3 MORE TUESDAYS TIL SEASON 9 AHHHH!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 13  
Visions and Jealousy**

If you ever told me that there were a such thing as 'good monsters', I probably would have laughed in your face. Monsters were never pure. They killed the innocent. They lied, deceived, ripped apart families and crushed hopeful futures. They were not moralistic. At least, that's what I spent my whole life believing. Until this vampire hunt my brothers and I took on.

In Montana, cattle mutilations and a few gruesome murders had taken place and so we headed up there (after Dean had fixed the car) to check it out. We discovered the weirdest thing there. Well for one, the victims _were_ vamps—the doctors obviously weren't able to figure that one out for themselves. And secondly, these vampires…they were _good_! They had ethics! It took a while of convincing from Sam to actually accept it, but it turns out this particular group of vampires lived off of animal blood (that explained the cattle) and busted ass not to hurt humans. I respected that. I respected that a lot.

Unfortunately, not everyone can be as accepting as me. We met another hunter on the job named Gordon. Now, Gordon seemed like a decent guy at first, if anything maybe a little cocky. But still, decent. But he had a bit of a flaw. He despised vampires. He didn't believe there was any hint of virtue in any form of monster. And as he was torturing the vampire Lenore, he revealed that vampires had taken his sister when he was younger. Originally we thought they had murdered her. Nope, turns out they turned her—and Gordon was the one to chop off her head. His own _sister_.

Dean punched him for that. He couldn't fathom the thought a brother killing his own sister. He could only think what would happen if we were in that situation. He couldn't bear the thought of murdering me. I'm glad he punched Gordon. Seeing that vam—_girl_, and how gentle she was—she didn't deserve it. We took Lenore to safety after that, and bound Gordon to a chair. We had to assure she escaped unharmed.

Sam and I dragged Dean to visit Mom's grave in Greenville, Illinois. I didn't exactly understand why her stone was all the way out in Illinois rather than Kansas, but oh well I guess. I expressed to Sam my desire to get Dad a headstone to place next to hers. While Sam loved the idea, Dean, as expected, was against it. He didn't grasp the whole sentimental value concept. In fact, he managed to avoid Mom's grave at all costs and instead spontaneously stumbled upon a case. So we got to deal with a zombie. That was fun.

On the road, Dean finally sucked it up enough to admit his honest feelings to Sam and me. He kept repeating this one phrase: "what's dead should stay dead". That alone was enough to spark some major anxiety within me. I was dead. I had been dead. And I sure as hell didn't 'stay dead'. Did he find out about what happened to me? Why would he want me—his little sister—to remain dead?

But then after explaining to Sam and me that he believed Dad died because of him, he stated, "You two and Dad...you're the most important people in my life. And now…I never should have come back. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead." And I understood. He felt guilty. He was taking unnecessary responsibility for Dad's death. I couldn't believe it. "You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it."

A tear dripped down my brother's cheek and it pained me. It hurt to witness Dean break like this. He was the strong one—he was supposed to hold us together. And finally, he was succumbing to emotion. "So tell me. What could you possibly say to make that all right?"

Before I could stop myself, I blurted, "I was dead too." Dean looked up in surprise with tearful eyes. Sam, however, frowned at the memory and directed his gaze to the ground. "Sam and Dad and I…none of us told you this. I died in that car crash. I was gone before the Impala was even done skidding. And then I came back."

I turned to Sam, swallowing. "Also, I wasn't completely honest with you, Sam. The only one I told this to was Dad. Before I came back, I had this dream. And in it, something told me it was resurrecting me. That something—it was an angel."

Both Dean and Sam's foreheads creased in confusion from my story. Dean scoffed, "Angels don't exist, Lucy."

"I know, okay. I know," I replied. "I don't believe in them or that kind of stuff either. But what else could have brought me back? Unless it was a demon, but I don't even wanna _think_ about that."

"Now, wait," Sam interjected objectively. "Who says it can't be angels? With all the stuff we see, why is it so impossible for them to exist? I'd imagine they'd have the ability to resurrect people if they _were_ real—"

"Come on, Sam, _angels_?" Dean ridiculed. Sam threw up his hands.

"I don't see why not!"

I shook my head, crossing my arms. "Whatever it is, guys, it's freaking me out," I pronounced, trying to draw a resolution to the disagreement. "Everything seems to be doing that lately…"

Sam's visions suddenly began to start up again in the beginning of December and they got pretty intense. It scared me awfully. It obviously was extremely painful for him. Sam figured that since he was receiving visions again about deaths, that means good ol' Yellow Eyes was up and kicking again and insisted that we traveled to the Roadhouse to see if Ash had picked up anything. Roadhouse: good idea I must say. Very good, great choice, Sammy.

Peeking in the mirror back at me, Dean smirked, "What are you trying to do? Is there like a gnat in your hair or something?" I stopped straightening and fixing certain parts of my hair and glared up at my oldest brother.

"I can't look decent?" I retorted, raising a brow.

"We're just going to the Roadhouse, who you trying to look nice for? Ash?"

I nearly choked. "What?! No! Of course not." I continued to run a few fingers through my long hair, untangling and fluffing.

Sam looked back, a small smiling growing on his face. "…Jo?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, but my response of "No" was a bit slower and weaker than the first time. I risked a glance up at my brothers. They both wore knowing smirks on their faces. "Shuddup," I grumbled, heat rushing to my cheeks.

It was busy at the Roadhouse actually—more active than I'd ever seen it. And from the appearance of most of the burly, rough-and-tough guys there, I'd say a majority were hunters—or at least bikers. "I was hoping you'd come back soon," a voice next to me said joyfully. I smiled at her.

"Well, Sammy kinda insisted. But hey, I'm not complaining," I grinned back at Jo, slightly flirtatiously. Her smile was bright, lighting up the whole room and her golden hair fell like waves on her shoulders. She was just so…stunning. I was only aware of Dean's presence besides me when he cleared his throat.

I'm not gonna lie. I basically eye flirted with Jo the entirety of the time we spent at the Roadhouse. I barely even processed what my brothers and Ash were saying. It didn't really matter anyway, cause we didn't gain any leads until later on that night. Ash was able to track down this guy from Guthrie, Oklahoma. His name: Andrew Gallagher. Born in 1983, like Sam. His mother died in a fire started in the nursery, like Sam. And when she died, Andrew was at a six month old mark, once again, like Sam. Suspicious? Definitely.

Sam suspected that Andy was killing people with his abilities, just like Max Miller had been doing, and that all of the psychic kids were created to be killers. That _he_ was born to kill. I almost knocked him upside the head just for thinking that. Well anyway, this Andy kid had the power of mind control, but it resulted that he wasn't behind the killings after all. Actually, he was…sweet. And funny—not killer material at all. Andy literally had an "evil twin". His twin was vengeful because they were split up as infants, and Andy was forced to shoot him.

~o~

"So, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?"

I looked up at my brothers from my glass of beer in response to Ellen's question, questioning them with my eyes. I didn't see the harm in informing her of what was happening—she could help. Dean, on the other hand, didn't see it in that light. "Not really. No offense, it's just kinda a family thing," he rejected with a shrug and gulped down a good portion of his drink.

"Not anymore," Ellen replied, and dropped a stack of papers in front of us. "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house, except you were 3 years and six months. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we think so."

"Why?"

"None of your business," Dean snapped. I glared at him, nudging him harshly.

"Dean Charles* Winchester, cut it out," I scolded. "She's just trying to help. If Dad trusted her enough to tell her about the demon, then we can trust her with Sam's situation. We're not gonna do this alone if we don't have to." Dean stared at me for a moment, and then submitted in defeat. Ellen gifted me with a gracious smile.

"There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher…like me. And um—we all have some kind of ability," Sam explained to her warily.

"Ability?" Ellen urged. I nodded.

"Yeah. Psychic ability," Sam confirmed. "I have—I have visions. Premonitions. I don't know, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."

"What kind of plans?" Ellen pressed interestedly.

"We don't really know for sure."

"These people out there, these psychics. Are they dangerous?"

Dean was the one that spoke up. "No. Not all of them."

"The guy we just dealt with—Andrew Gallagher. He wasn't dangerous. Not at all," I added.

Sam nodded and continued on from my comment, "But some are. Some are very dangerous."

"Okay, how many of them are we looking at?" Ellen inquired, glimpsing between the three of us.

"We've been able to track a clear pattern so far. They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday," Dean elucidated.

"_Or_ if they have some kind of six month marker, like Sam. Though they never get older than 3 years and 6 months, but it's always that same six month period," I clarified.

But it turned out that even that wasn't accurate information. Sam informed us that the twin of Andy Gallagher—well, he didn't exactly fit the pattern. His mother did die, however it was not caused by a house fire and he was much older than 3 and a half years old. It broke the pattern and now there was no method of tracking these psychic kids down. Great. Just perfect.

~o~

_December 5, 2006_

I was startled awake when Sam shifted violently beside me. I typically would have smacked him grumpily for waking me, except when I paused to listen, he was gasping in pain. Much like he would have if a vision of his was occurring. Ever since we solved and left the Andy Gallagher case, he hadn't experienced a vision—not within the past three days. Why would he be having one now?

I flipped over in the bed in concern at my brother. He was sitting straight, panting and trembling. A light coating of cold sweat beaded on his creased forehead. I reached over slowly to delicately lay a hand on his shoulder. "Sam?"I whispered worriedly.

The second I touched him, it was like lightening had struck him. He recoiled from my touch and leaped out of bed, planting himself to the side of the wall. He stared at me with wide eyes, panting heavily. I gazed back, absolutely baffled and partially terrified. What did I do?

It took him a few moments, but finally he calmed down enough and seemed to recognize me for the first time. "Lucy? It's you, you're not…" Sam huffed, seeming to be confused. I raised my brows, glancing around the dark room.

"Yeah, of course it's me," I promised gently. "What happened? Did you have another vision?" Gradually, Sam nodded. But the way he was staring at me. It made me hypothesize that this wasn't 'just another vision' he just witnessed. The way he was looking at me…he was scared. Fearful of…me? "Sam, did you have a vision…about me?"

Sam's lack of an answer confirmed this for me. But instead of answering, Sam exhaled sharply and moved to leave. "Get some sleep, Lucy. I need a drink." And he was hastily out of sight. I gazed after him, perplexed. A headache was already forming. He had appeared terrified of me. What could he have seen to cause him to feel that way about his little sister?

What had happened to me?

~o~

_December 9, 2006_

My brothers and I had taken up Ellen's offer of the extra rooms in the Roadhouse, and after about 8 days worth at the bar, we were finally taking off to locate a new hunt. I was kinda somber that we were parting already—over the past few days I'd grown a small attachment to the Roadhouse, as well as the people that resided in it. Ellen…it was like she'd adopted me as another daughter. And Jo—beautiful Jo—we'd become great friends. Just friends. I was putting in an immense effort to avoid my growing _liking_ towards her.

Outside, my brothers and I packed up the last of our belongings in the trunk of the Impala, debating our subsequent hunt. Just as we were finishing, the three of us picked up on a dimmed crash followed by shouting voices coming from inside the Roadhouse. With an exchanged look with my brothers, we figured it must be Jo and Ellen clashing. Cautiously, I approached the front door and creaked it open, stepping in warily. My brothers trailed me.

"What are you going to do?" Jo shouted at her mother, following her down the steps. Neither of them even noticed Dean, Sam and I entering. "Are you going to chain me up in the basement?"

"You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently," Ellen shot back, angrily handling the chairs. "Hey, you don't wanna stay—don't stay! Go back to school!"

"I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection!" Jo exclaimed, crossing her arms.

"Oh yeah but getting yourself killed on some dusty back road—that's where you belong?"

Finally, Jo realized my brothers and I were present, acting as an audience of this brawl. I tried to give her a tiny, soothing smile, but she was too upset for it to take effect. Her mother followed her gaze and noticed us. "Guys, bad time," she snapped. I bit my lip and nodded, but I didn't make an effort to depart like my brothers. I met Jo's eyes instead, seeing her plead for us to stay.

"Wait!" Jo called out to my brothers. She kept her eyes on me. "I want to know what they think about this." Jo approached me, and I questioned her with my eyes.

"I don't care what they think!" Ellen protested exasperatedly. The bar's phone rang out loudly and interrupted the argument. Jo faced her mother irritably, and with a sigh, Ellen went to answer it. Jo twisted back around, and held up a folder for me to take. I did so guardedly, not wanting to stir any further disputes between her and her mother.

"Three weeks ago a young girls disappears from a Philadelphia apartment," Jo began, checking to reassure that all three of us were listening to her. I whipped open the folder and flicked through the stack of papers contained within, and Dean examined over my shoulder. "And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years, six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or —"

"Who put this together?" Dean interrupted. "Ash?"

"I did it myself," Jo corrected proudly. I glimpsed up at her, hardly containing my admiring smile. She was quick to return it.

"I gotta admit," Sam acknowledged. "We hit the road for a lot less."

Ellen appeared next to her daughter, placing her hands on her hips. "Good, you like the case so much _you _take it." Immediately I shook my head.

"No, we couldn't do that! This is hers, she put it together and everything," I denied, and Jo shot me a grateful look.

"It doesn't matter, sweetie," Ellen sighed, "because she's not going and that's final!"

"_Mom_!" Jo began to complain.

"Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. I won't lose you too. I just won't."

And with one last apologetic look at Jo, my brothers ushered me out the door, snatching Jo's file with us.

~o~

The apartment building itself basically screamed haunted. It was an older building in which several residents struggled with flickering lights and issues with the running water. Both could be signs of the paranormal—but they could also be regular, everyday problems as well. Once we had investigated the actual apartment in which the recent victim had been hijacked from, we discovered this was definitely ghostly. This yucky black goo oozed from a coverless outlet.

"That's ectoplasm," Dean informed Sam and me, testing out some of the gunk with his finger. "Well I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the stay-puft marshmallow man."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Cute," I snarked.

"I thought so."

"I've only seen this stuff, like, twice," Sam stated, ignoring both of us. "I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit."

"Alright, let's find this badass before he snags anymore girls," Dean declared. I gave a quick nod in agreement. Together, my brothers and I exited the apartment, and marched down the hall. However, we were stopped by voices around the corner of the hallway, advancing towards us, and we pushed ourselves against the nearest wall to eavesdrop. As the voices loomed nearer, I realized that I knew that voice. It was Jo! Jo was here!

Dean was the first to move from the wall, making himself known to her. "What the hell are you doing here?" he scolded. I gotta say—Jo was one of the greatest improvisers I'd ever met. She strolled up to Dean instantly, as if she'd been expecting him this whole time.

"There you are, honey!" she chimed, looping her arm around him. I crossed my arms, feeling my jaw unintentionally clench. Honey? Really? "This is my boyfriend Dean and two of our friends, Sam and Lucy." I bit back a frown and ignored the resentful lump in my throat. It was just acting, Lucy. Just acting. Even if it wasn't, she was only your friend. Get over it.

The landlord reached over to shake Dean's hand with an inviting grin. "Good to meet you. Quite a gal you got here."

"Yeah, she's a pistol," Dean played along, delivering a smack on her ass. I ground my teeth together, trying to resist the need to kick my brother in the shin. Sam nudged me and when I glanced up at him, he was wearing a knowing smirk. I stepped on his foot before looking up at the landlord's curious stare, and realizing we were making a scene.

"Did you already check out the apartment? The one for rent," Jo asked. Dean glanced at her blankly, and then caught on.

"Uh, yeah! Yes! Loved it. Great flow," he stuttered.

"How'd you get in?" the man questioned with an inquisitive stare.

"It was open," Dean shot back.

Noticing that the landlord was still unsure, Jo inquired, "Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?" The question seemed to shake the man out of his curiosity.

"Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stick me for the rent," he responded. Jo smiled brightly.

"Well, her loss, our gain!" she exclaimed vibrantly. "Because if Deano loves it, it's good enough for me!"

"Oh sweetie," Dean laughed incredibly falsely, and smack her lightly once again. I couldn't thwart the small, irritated eye roll that escaped me, as Jo handed over a roll of cash to the landlord. Still fuming slightly, I trailed behind my brothers and Jo to the apartment we'd just purchased.

Jo let my brothers take the lead and she fell into step beside me. I looked up at her tiny smirk. Rolling my eyes, I pressed, "What?"

She shook her head, her brilliant smile growing. "You're good at many things, Lu…but hiding your jealousy? That's not one of them." My eyes widened slightly, and before I could start to protest, she sped up to my brothers, leading the way.

This was going to be an interesting case.

~o~

Ellen hadn't a clue that Jo was here with us in Philadelphia. Apparently Jo had informed her that she was heading to Vegas instead, which was actually a pretty convincing story considering Jo was witty enough to have Ash link a credit card trail to the casinos. With luck, Ellen wouldn't find out about her daughter's endeavors—at least not for a while. Though both Dean and Sam were a little reluctant to have her on the case with us, neither spilled the beans.

I defended Jo being on this job. And not just because my big, fat, annoying crush on her; but because it was great experience as a hunter. I guess that's part of what Dean was so uptight about. He didn't want to see her get trapped in this life. It was understandable. But this was her choice. If she sought to be a hunter, so be it. Who were we to stop her? I think she appreciated my opinions on the issue, so that was a bonus. Plus, she was a fantastic help with the facts and history of this place, being that she'd put the whole case together.

Jo informed us that the building was constructed in 1924 on an empty field as a warehouse, but was altered into apartments a few months ago. We couldn't think up an explanation. There were absolutely no gruesome deaths on the grounds. Sam leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Okay so it's something else then? Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it," he suggested. I nodded, crossing my arms and mirroring my brother's actions.

"Must be," I agreed with a shrug. "I can't think of anything else it could be."

"Well, we've got to scan the whole building," Jo declared, glancing between Sam and me. "Everywhere we can get to, right?"

Dean gave her a sharp nod, wearing a smirk. "Right so, you and me—we'll take the top two floors. Sam and Lucy—everything else." Jo wasn't in favor of this idea.

"We'd move faster if we split up," Jo protested, standing in front of him defiantly. Suddenly, she smirked and offered, "Or how about this? Me and Lucy go together." She quirked an eyebrow at me, and I beamed. I turned to Dean shrugging and questioning him for permission silently.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, two young, blonde girls alone together. That'll work out just great. Really, it'll be like creepy ghost paradise." Jo and I both rolled our eyes, but I realized he had a point. "No sorry, sweetheart. You and me; Sam and Lucy. Not negotiable."

~o~

***A lot of times, I'll see people make Dean's middle name 'Henry' after his grandfather. But I always thought that'd be really unreasonable. John hated/resented Henry because he thought he abandoned him. So why would he give his name to Dean? That never made sense to me. So I chose the name Charles because it's a fairly common name and it kinda…fit.**

**And in case it isn't obvious already: yes, this will be a Jo/Lucy story for a while :)**


	14. Just Drive

**16 DAYS TIL SEASON 9…just thought you should know.**

**I just got back from an orchestra retreat…I'm exhausted. I finished this three days ago so I'm posting it now. I really like this one. It has fluff, and old fashioned hunting, and then a little bit of angst. So weeeee! Enjoy!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 14  
Just Drive**

Sam and I strolled along the hallways of the first floor, an EMF meter held in my hand. So far, we were picking up a whole lotta nothing. The single observation worth noting was this strange smell that kept washing over Sam and me. I swore I'd experienced that smell before, but I just couldn't quite touch base with it. Sighing, I dropped the EMF to my side and faced Sam.

"Well, we've scanned the whole first two floors, the lobby—there's nothing. I think it's time we turn in," I stated. It was pretty late actually—around 11 pm. The exhaustion of the day was starting to kick in. Sam nodded in agreement, and we started to head back to the room together. Scoffing at a sudden thought, I said, "You know, I get why Dean's watching Jo like a hawk, but why me? He knows I can take care of myself."

Sam shrugged. "You _do_ fit the typical victim description. I guess he just doesn't want you getting snatched. Unpopular opinion, but I kinda agree." I shot a frown at my brother, but he merely shrugged again innocently.

When we returned to the apartment, we found that Dean and Jo had been much more successful than Sam and me. It was actually legitimately horrifying what they'd discovered. Behind one of the vents was a nasty glob of someone's light hair, still attached to some bloody skin. I have a pretty strong stomach, but I almost gagged. I had to take a shower afterwards just at the sight of it.

After yanking on some fresh clothes, I laid on the bed with my head against the wall, scrolling through my phone aimlessly. Dean and Sam had elected to taking the living room to sleep, while me and possibly Jo got the bed. Was I a nervous wreck about that little fact? Abso-fucking-lutely. I glanced up when a knock sounded from the bedroom door. Jo's head popped in.

"Decent?" she asked. I smiled and beckoned her in. She took a spot next to me, resting her head on the pillow, and examined my outfit, particularly my black and red band logo crop top. "Foo Fighters, huh? I always took you as a modern type."

"Well, you got me spot on then," I laughed. I scooted down so that my head relaxed on the pillow beside hers. Despite my jumpy, fluttery heart, I felt so comfortable around her. Like I could tell her anything. "Dean always forces me to listen to his music—glam rock and hair galore, you know. It's obnoxious."

"Damn right it is, I mean, he doesn't like REO. REO kicks ass," she commented, grinning. I cackled alongside her, placing my hands on my stomach. There was a pause between us in which Jo seemed to be lost in deliberation, mulling something over thoughtfully. She rolled her head to the side so that we were looking into each other's eyes. "If you could redo your life—I mean, completely restart it—would you have chosen to be a hunter?"

I stared into her eyes—deep pools of rich brown—and pursed my lips in contemplation. It was a good question. Would I? If my Mom was alive from the beginning. If Dad never sought revenge for her. If I had never been forced on the road. I shook my head slightly. "I don't know," I answered honestly. I shrugged and went on, "This is the only life I've ever known…But I guess it's kinda like what you said about your dad."

At her confused expression, I explained, "I knew about this stuff ever since I was five. And you know, I saw it…I saw what these different monsters and creatures did and…well, I knew I couldn't just sit back and watch it happen. A demon took my _Mom_ away from me. And now that same thing has taken my Dad too. I couldn't watch that happen to other people. When I watched my Dad do what he did, and then my brothers…I wanted to be like them. Like my Dad. I wanted to be a hero."

I broke off, chuckling. "I have a lot of pride in what I do. A lot of pride in who I am. Without hunting—_god_, I think that pride would go to my head. And you know what? There's people alive today because of what we do. And I think that's worth it. With my Dad dying, you know, it just makes it even more real for me. What this demon's done to me and my family—he and none of those other sons of bitches are ever doing that to any family ever again. Not if I can help it."

Jo's smile grew leisurely, until she was full on beaming at me. "That's exactly it. That's how I feel about—about everything. And I know my mom's just trying to protect me. But I wish she'd understand that the way you do. You, uh—you understand me really well, Lu. Maybe even better than anyone." I flushed, trying desperately to control the heat rushing to everywhere in my body, as well as my stupid, erratic heartbeat.

I bit the corner of my lip, looking into her eyes with a smile. "Um…once this hunt is over. Would you, um, want to go for a drink sometime?" I blurted. Embarrassed, I glanced away momentarily. Jo smirked, amused.

"You know, I've never been hit on by a girl before," she giggled. This time, the heat rose straight up to my cheeks. "It's kinda refreshing." I raised one eyebrow at her, entertained and slightly anxious. She smiled and quietly replied, "I'd love to."

A sharp bang on our door caused us to both jump about a mile in the air, startled. Dean's gruff voice sounded from behind it, "This isn't a slumber party! Get some sleep, both of you." And he left us alone. Jo and I exchanged a glance and snorted.

Getting under the covers, Jo commented, "I swear I'm gonna kill him at some point during this." Copying her movements, I rolled my eyes in agreement.

"Welcome to my world. I get to deal with that every day!"

~o~

_Clink. Thump._

My eyes fluttered open at the strange sounds. At first, I figured I was dreaming. But I soon recalled where I was. Glancing over at the sleeping girl next to me, I quietly shifted through the sheets and hopped to my feet as lightly as possible. That noise—it was coming from somewhere outside the apartment. I didn't even think about grabbing my phone from the bedside table as I slipped my white shoes on and shuffled through the apartment.

I was vigilant not to wake Sam or Dean as I slid through the front door. It was dark in the hallway, similar to the apartment. That noise had came to a halt as I investigated the hallway—it was deadly silent. The only sound was my own steady breathing. And there was that _smell_ again. It was indistinct, but familiar. I still couldn't place it. An abrupt clanging rang out from somewhere behind me, and I whirled around sharply.

The smell grew stronger, and suddenly, I remembered exactly what it was. When I was 17, I had gotten kidnapped once by vampires as their way of drawing my Dad and Dean to them. They managed to knock me out with chloroform. That's it! That's what I was smelling right now! It had to be. But why the hell—

Something grabbed my ankle and I fell to the ground with a harsh thud and a squeal of surprise. I couldn't find the voice to cry for help after that, and I tried to occupy myself with kicking a disgusting hand off of me. The longer I struggled against the creature, the more evident the chloroform became. I felt my eyes unwilling drooping and my head becoming light and dizzy. I heard one final thing before I fell unconscious:

'_I will protect you_.'

~o~

"_Come on, Lucy. You gotta wake up. I told you I was going to protect you. But you have to get up first."_

It was amazing how that voice managed to be soothing and annoying simultaneously. It was speaking to me now than it ever had, and it was kinda starting to give me a headache. Or maybe that was just the chloroform…I groaned slightly as I caught a big whiff of it blended in with a few other things. Death and the coppery tint of blood. It was making me nauseous. I couldn't see anything.

I felt my way around the enclosure I was contained in. It was wooden with a little bit of metal thrown in. On the top, deep scratches were gouged into the surface. I shifted into a sitting position. Because of my short stature, I was just barely able to crouch inside of it. I peeked out of one of the long thin openings on one side of my jail. The room itself was one big circle with 5 other metal doors—they were chambers of some sort.

"Hello?" I called. Receiving no response whatsoever, I cried, "Where are you, you son of a bitch?" No answer. I huffed and leaned back against the wall of the chamber hopelessly. Real smart, Lucy. Let yourself get caught by this creep and then taunt it. Wonderful. I sat in silence for practically a half an hour, strategizing. I really wasn't sure how to get myself out of this one. My brothers and Jo had to be searching for me by now…hopefully.

Well…make that just my brothers. An overpowering aroma became obvious in the air, and I watched in horror as a figure of a ghost flickered into the room, carrying an immobile girl in his arms. My heart sunk when I recognized her. This son of a bitch captured Jo. Scowling, I observed as he swiftly locked her into one of the capsules directly across from me. Slamming my hand against the metal door, I cried furiously, "Hey!"

The ghost whipped around with a growl. He was…disgusting. A grungy, dirt caked face and an unruly black beard. Terror overpowered my rage as the ghost teleported fluidly to the front of my cage. I shuffled back as far as I could against the back of my chamber, avoiding the black and grey hand that outstretched through the hole I had been peering through moments before. It was getting closer.

Suddenly, the ghost screeched horribly and retracted his hand at the speed of light. Puzzled, I witnessed as the awful ghost retreated hastily. I noticed it was brighter in my prison—enough so that I could take in the inside of it. I realized why it smelled like blood—this particular capsule was covered in a dry coating of it. I looked down at my body just in time to observe a dazzling glow dim out until only my own skin was left. I had been glowing again…and that's what scared the ghost. Interesting.

A thought came to me. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but…what have I got to lose? "You still there, voice?" I questioned aimlessly. Sighing, I continued, "This is probably gonna be a longshot but…hey, thanks….And I'm talking to a voice inside my head. Awesome."

"_Doesn't mean I'm not real. And you're welcome."_

I nearly jumped out of my skin. It…it was _real_. This voice could talk back to me. It could hear me. I haven't been imagining it! Was the voice the one who'd been shielding me this whole time—my guardian? G-guardian…_angel_? Shaking my head, I decided on another shot in the dark question. "Are you an angel…?"

"_You'll see._"

I rolled my eyes. "That's helpful," I replied sarcastically. I heard a few vague noises coming from somewhere in the room, followed by a low whimper. I peered out of the openings once again, curiously. "Jo?" I questioned. More shuffling sounded from across the room, and suddenly a pair of brown eyes were visible from the chamber opposite to me. I sighed in relief. "_Jo_."

"Lucy! You're okay!" she called, sounding similarly grateful. "You're never gonna believe who this bastard is. We're dealing with the spirit of H.H. Holmes…you know, America's first serial killer." My eyes widened and I slumped in defeat.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," I grumbled. This serial killer…he was a creepy little fucker. What had we gotten ourselves into? I sighed, "You okay though?"

"Well…define 'okay'," she groaned. A small chuckle escaped my lips.

"Is…is anybody there?" a new voice gasped frantically. I shifted in my compartment, attempting to locate the girl that appeared in the conversation.

"Your name's Theresa?" Jo called.

"Yes," the other girl whimpered. I met Jo's panicked eyes from across the room.

"This won't make you feel any better," she started, "but my friend and I are here to rescue you."

"Oh god, he's out there! He's gonna kill us!" Theresa whined in a panicked voice.

"Don't worry, Theresa," I assured, trying to maintain a calming voice. "We're gonna get out of this mess. We just need to find out how—my brothers should be looking for us." I looked to Jo. "They are looking for us…right?" I was able to distinguish Jo's nod.

"They better be—I kinda vanished right in front of them," she confided. Splashing footsteps suddenly sounded throughout the room and a dark figure appeared in the barbed doorway of the room. Theresa screamed in terror, while Jo tried to shush her. Narrowing my eyes, I guarded myself. It was deadly silent for an extended amount of time.

Jo's scream rang out throughout the room. Holmes stood in front of her cell, a revolting hand plunged through the opening in the metal. I acted impulsively, rage clouding my judgment. "Get off her, you creepy ass freak!" I shouted, slamming on the metal door confining me. Jo yelped in pain one last time, and the spirit pulled away. I growled furiously as I spotted a bunch of her light blonde hair in his hand. Before I could act, Holmes vanished.

"Jo! Jo are you okay?" I breathed, peering through the slit worriedly. With a struggle, Jo sat up and her eyes reappeared in the door. There were traces of tears pooling in them, but she nodded despite. Setting her teeth determinedly, she growled:

"This fucker's going down."

~o~

It'd been almost an hour since Holmes's last appearance. I sat in my chamber criss-crossed, leaning heavily against the back wall. Jo had been struggling a majority of the time, attempting anything within her power to break free of the confinements we were bolted in. Eventually, she gave up, laying back down with a grunt of defeat. I sighed heavily, trying to shift into a comfortable position.

"My brothers will be here soon," I reminded her, though a hint of worry was hidden in my voice. "They've got to be…"

The room fell icy cold. A shuddering, heaving breath echoed off the walls of the small room. Mustering the courage to peer out the opening, I leaned forward. The ghost had returned…and he was directly in front of Jo's cell. "You're so pretty…so beautiful," he breathed. I tensed considerably, my jaw clenching protectively.

"Go to hell," Jo retorted. I snarled as he reached a hand inside her chamber. She made a sound of disgust, and I resisted the urge to taunt the spirit—Jo knew what she was doing. I had to give her a chance to figure this out on her own. And she sure as hell outsmarted him. I heard the noise of a knife ring out, and watched as Holmes wailed and disappeared. "How do you like that? Pure iron, you creepy-ass son of a bitch!" she shrieked. I grinned admirably.

"Jo, I swear, you are one of the smartest girls I've ever met," I praised her. From her eyes, I could detect her bright, appreciative smile. The room had fallen silent once more. Holmes was nowhere to be seen.

"Is—is he gone?" Theresa stammered.

"I don't know," Jo replied, her voice shaky. Looking out into the room once more, I examined the room. I tried to warn her, but it was too late. Holmes suddenly grabbed Jo by the arm, and she let out a squeak of surprise. Her squealing halted when he placed a dirty hand over her mouth, hushing her.

"Hey! Get off her!" I screamed, rattling the door frantically. The ghost paid me no attention whatsoever. "I said get the fuck off her, you fucking freak!" In desperation, I began to kick the metal door with my heel, using as much force as I could conjure. Rage boiled inside me. I had to get to her—I had to save Jo. My fury transformed into unbeknownst strength. With a roar of wrath, I gave one final potent kick…and the door sprung free. In fact, it hurled directly off its hinges.

The ghost faced me in horror as I stumbled from the cage to my feet. I felt…energized. Powerful. Ready to slaughter this goddamn ghost. But someone was more prepared than I. A gunshot sounded throughout the room, hitting Holmes square in the chest and sending him hurtling backwards. He vanished in a puff of smoke. Glancing over to the shooter, I gasped in relief. My brothers were finally here.

"Lucy!" Dean cried and together, they rushed towards me. My power surge had faded out and I almost collapsed to my knees with the initial shock of it. I grabbed onto my oldest brother, beaming at him graciously. "You okay? Where's Jo?"

"I'm over here!" Jo called. Dean and Sam began to hurry to the chamber from where her voice originated, but I blocked them, placing a hand on each of their chests.

"I've got her," I gasped and nodded my head towards Theresa's chamber. "There's another girl in that one. Take care of her, get her to safety." Both of them looked skeptical, but obeyed my request. Dean discovered a rusty iron bar leaning against a wall, and picked it up, tossing it to me. Racing over to Jo's cell, prying open the handle and fumbling with it.

I chucked the bar over to my brothers once I was finished, and successfully unbolted Jo's cage. She rolled out slowly, and I grabbed onto her, assisting her to a stand position. The second she was up, she pulled me into a tight embrace, clinging onto me tightly. I clutched back, smoothing a hand through her tousled hair. She released me and held me by the arms, grinning at me.

"How'd you get out?" she inquired curiously.

With a nervous gulp, I merely replied, "I got angry."

Sam and Dean approached us, holding up Theresa carefully. The poor girl was trembling in terror. Jo shrugged off my comment for the time being and still clinging to me, opted, "Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back." Dean shook his head, regretfully.

"Actually, I don't think you're leaving here just yet," he told her.

"What?" Jo gasped. I furrowed my eyebrows at my brother as well.

"Remember when I said you being bait was a bad plan? Now it's kind of the only one we got," he informed, glancing at Sam, who shrugged. I shook my head, huffing.

"No. No, come on," I rejected. "I can be bait. Let me be bait, not Jo. Please." Dean shook his head once, staring at me with one of those 'brother-knows-best' looks.

"No way in hell. Plus, Jo will be easier bait. He knows you're more experienced, and with that whole little kicking off the door thing back there? He's not gonna go after you. Jo's bait." With a resigned sigh, both Jo and I consented, though I was extremely unwilling. It was in my nature to be overprotective, and felt that way over her. I didn't want anything to happen to her—I wasn't going to let it.

Dean's plan ultimately was effective. Jo managed to lure Holmes into the middle of the chamber and we successfully surrounded him in salt. She made it out unharmed…we all did. And when the four of us crawled out of literally the sewers, we realized our job was done. Well…mostly done. Dean added that he had one last thing to finish off before we could leave.

Gathered around the entrance we'd emerged from, Sam, Jo and I waited patiently for Dean to return. Sam walked around Jo and me, smiling at the both of us. "So, this job as glamorous as you thought it'd be?" he asked Jo, honestly curious of her answer. I raised a brow at the girl.

"Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. Sure," she retorted, causing Sam and me to chuckle. She smiled, but added seriously, "But that Teresa girl's gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?"

I beamed at the girl. She really was right about one thing. We understood each other tremendously well. Not to sound like a teenager with a crush but we kinda just…fit. Whaddaya know? When Sam agreed, she glanced over at me and returned my smile. We shared this...look. A mutual exchange. And with that look…I think I might've concluded that she felt the same.

~o~

The ride back to the Roadhouse was painful. I sat in my regular spot in the middle backseat, squished in between Jo and Sam. Ellen had legitimately flown out here to Philadelphia to, I guess you could say, 'supervise' us. She was _pissed_. I loved Ellen; I really did. But I just wished she'd be a little more open to the idea of Jo hunting. But she refused to budge on the issue.

Back at the Roadhouse, Ellen practically dragged her daughter into the bar. After snapping at both Dean and me, she virtually kicked us out temporarily so that she could 'talk to her daughter alone'. I hoped we hadn't gotten her into too much trouble. But honestly, if she'd just _seen _how great Jo had been—she was like a natural born hunter!

Patiently, my brothers and I waited outside the Roadhouse in the cool December air. Leaning against the trunk of the Impala, I pulled my denim jacket closer around my body, shivering slightly. The front door of the Roadhouse swung open and Jo hurriedly stormed out, fuming. She barely even stopped to look at us. Trailing after Dean, I pushed myself off the car, moving to follow her.

"What happened?" Dean questioned, striding to catch up with her. "Hey, talk to me." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, but she swatted it away angrily, spinning around on her heel.

"Get off me!" she snapped. I slowly approached, looking upon the scene with concern.

Dean put his hands up in surrender, taking the hint and strolling away from her. "Sorry, I'll see you around." I, however, took a few steps towards her. A frown graced my face when she shot a steely glare at me as well. She'd…never done that before.

"Jo?" I asked softly, trying my hardest not to piss her off more. She seemed to calm down if only a twinge. Clenching her jaw heatedly, she began to explain:

"It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone; this guy did too, but... I guess my father figured he could trust him. Mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed. Yeah, that was your father, Lucy." My heart sunk. I moved to comfort her, but she took a step back, shaking her head frantically.

"Why do you think John never came back? Never told you about us? Because he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that, that's why," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. I chewed on my lip, trying to think of something—anything—that would soothe her. But with a biting tone, she added, "You're wrong. Your dad was no hero. What kind of hero gets their friend killed?"

A lump formed in my throat, both in sorrow and newfound resentment. Nodding, I smiled quickly and ruefully. "Okay," I mumbled simply and took a few long strides backwards. I didn't hear the next words she and Dean exchanged. I didn't spare a glance at Sam. I didn't even look back. I hopped in the backseat of the Impala, stuffing the earbuds of my IPod into my ears. And I blocked the world out. The only time I spared a glance upwards into the mirror, I found my oldest brother eyeing me concernedly. Without removing my earplugs, I shook my head.

"Just drive," I whispered.

~o~

**UGH. Conflict.**

**Either "Born under a bad sign" is next or "Tall Tales". I haven't decided yet…I'm too tired to XD  
But if it's Tall Tales then…AHHHHHHH TALL TALES YAY!**


	15. Having Faith

**I honestly did not plan on this much summary taking up this chapter, but there was just so much info to cover! And I didn't realize 2x13 was so important to my story line…so whoops! This turned into a mostly summary chapter…but it's still a long one at 11 pages and 5400+ words, and I honestly try to put as much as Lucy's personality and voice into it as possible. So this covers 2x07 "Unusual Suspects" to 2x14 "Born Under a Bad Sign". Which means TALL TALES IS NEXT AHHHH! I've been waiting forever to do that episode…it's one of my favorites ^.^**

**Okayyy, I'll get on with the chapter now! I hope it's okay!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 15  
Having Faith**

December has been _insane_ for us! I don't know where all of these monsters and creepy crawlers are coming from but Sam, Dean and I haven't gotten a break all month! At least it kept my mind off…other things. I mean, first Dean got arrested. Being that he's already wanted and presumed dead for murder, it's safe to say that that was a bit of a bump in the road. We worked our way through it though. And handled a Death Omen tied in with a bunch of cops in the process.

We were unfortunate enough to deal with another helping of demons—well okay, one particular demon. It was something called a crossroads demon. You know, the kind that made deals with people. The victims become overnight talent sensations only for their life to be claimed ten years later. By Hellhounds. Now that must be a terrifying sight. As much as I wanted to save these people, they did kinda bring it on themselves. Selling your own soul? That was some sketchy business.

However, we met this one man named Evan who made a deal to save his wife, unlike the ones who'd asked for talent or fame or money. It was actually heartbreaking. He was basically taking her place in death. While I showed sympathy towards the man, the whole notion seemed to truly piss Dean off.

"You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?" he questioned Evan. I had frowned at him. Something was bugging my brother…and I think I knew what. Because the thought had been pestering me for a while now too.

Dad sold his soul so Dean could live. I had no doubt about it in my mind. Dean spontaneously healing back in November only for Dad to die the next morning…that was no coincidence. There are never coincidences in this business. I didn't know what to feel about the whole situation. Dean was alive, but only at the cost of Dad's death. What, was I supposed to choose who I wanted alive the most? Hell no. But my Dad resided in Hell now. I…I can't think about it. It's too much.

Here's my own personal favorite of the month: Croatoans. What in the ever loving hell was that about? Sam received another vision about Dean wasting some guy in Rivergrove, Oregon. The town itself was peculiar from the get-go, considering Sam concluded that it was built over one of the first American colonies, the Roanokes. The one that was entirely wiped out and left only the word 'croatoan' carved into a tree. And that was precisely one of the primary clues we discovered. So—creepy, right?

'Creepy' wouldn't even begin to explain it. Croatoan turned out to be this demonic virus that was spread by blood. It caused people to randomly and murderously flip out on people unexpectedly. It had no traces and no way of distinguishing it. The only lead on we had was that it took three hours to incubate, and once the victim was dead, sulfur would appear in the blood. I thought Sam was a goner when the disease crept into his blood. Sam was immune to it. My big brother was immune to a _demonic virus_. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified. A little of both I guess. This whole thing with Sam was just…it was becoming scary and concerning. But I wasn't giving up on my Sammy. Not now.

And neither was Dean, despite what he told Sam afterwards. The secret Dad whispered to his oldest son right before he dropped dead—he finally cracked and told us. Dad advised Dean that Sam needed to be saved. And if he couldn't save him…then Dean would have to kill him. I—I couldn't believe Dad would actually say that. I mean, who says that about their own son! This was _Sam_. It didn't matter what the Yellow-Eyed demon said or wanted of him. He wasn't evil, he wasn't a thing; he was my big, sweet, dorky older brother. I would give my life for him.

As Sam fumed in the Impala, I gently bumped my shoulder against Dean's in an effort to soothe him. He just barely managed a smile. "Well, that went well," he scoffed. The corner of my lip twitched. I shook my head wearily, raising a brow at him.

"And Dad didn't say anything about me?" I asked my brother curiously. He gave me a short shake of his head. With a bitter smile, I added, "He didn't know what's wrong with me?" Dean turned his head to glare at me, shooting me a deep frown.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Lucy Dianne. Get that out of your head right now," he scolded irritably. I scoffed, the corner of my mouth lifting into a sarcastic smile.

"I beg to differ," I retorted, crossing my arms. "Dean, I freaking glow. I get random bursts of super strength. I hear voices and get brought back from the freaking dead. You don't think any of that's a little weird? And Dad said nothing? Nothing at all?"

Dean shook his head once more, retaining the frown on his face. "Nope, nothing." With a resigned sigh, he continued, "He…he said he knew something about you. Something important. He just wouldn't tell me what."

I huffed, frustrated. "Well that's just grade-A class on Dad's part. Really. I mean, he told you to kill Sam? Who_ says_ that? Who makes that part of their dying words? And you know what—I don't give a shit what he says. I'm not giving up on Sam. I'm not giving up on any of this." Dean dropped his stare on me to his shoes as he took in my words. "And you shouldn't either."

And with that, I think I might have gotten through to my brother.

~o~

Sam ended up leaving us while Dean and I were sleeping. I'm a pretty heavy sleeper—I didn't even hear him sneak out! For the few days Sam was gone, my oldest brother and I had been worried sick about him. We called Ellen and everything. With everything that'd been going on, this was a complete moronic move on his part. But luckily, with Ellen's help, we tracked him down in Indiana.

Dean had spotted a sign of a possible sniper and went around the building to follow them, while I straight up knocked on the motel door my brother was in. At Sam's surprised look when he answered the door, I said cheerfully, "You have damn well got some explaining to do, Mister." He was with some girl—no, not in _that_ way. Her name was Ava, and she was 23, sweet and funny, from Illinois and engaged. She, apparently, was another one of the special children and had seen a vision of Sam.

The whole thing turned out to be the work of Gordon Walker—you know, the head of the I-hate-vampires club. He was after the special children now, including Sam. He had planned to kill Sam with a double set of hand grenades and used Dean as bait. Fortunately, both Sam and I were smarter than him. After Sam sent Ava safely on her way home, we went after the rogue hunter and outsmarted his little traps.

Pointing a gun at him, I smirked, "Nice try, dumbass. You really think we'd fall for that?"

Long story short, we escaped and Gordon got a one way ticket to prison when he started shooting at us. And Ava never really made it home safe and sound. When we went to check up on her, we discovered her fiancé dead with his throat slit and blood coating the bed. There were traces of sulfur along the windows and Ava was gone. Vanished. She had been so sweet, it was _awful_.

Our endless stream of hunts leaked into January, starting with this ghost and her little dolls in a hotel where guests kept viciously dying. So, dolls and ghosts—_that _was a great combination. The hotel itself was kinda creepy too. The mother who owned it meant well though—just saying I can see why it was getting closed down. Oh, and my brothers got mistaken as a gay couple…again.

Sam said something that I guess you could say was slightly concerning…of course he was drunk when he told it to me, but nevertheless. "And Lucy!" he slurred. "I will watch out for you too. Just like Dean's gonna watch ou'for me."

I furrowed my eyebrows, puzzled. "Watch out for me, what do you mean by that, Sammy?"

With a deadest look of seriousness, he replied, "In case you turn into a thing too. Just like I saw." He passed out after that. I knew he'd been hiding some tidbit of information from me. Ever since that night when he had that vision about me…and he—he gave me that _look_. That horrified look. As if I wasn't his sister anymore, and rather some—_thing_. And this confirmed it.

After Dean lugged him into bed, he turned to me, throwing his hands in the air. "What the hell did he mean by that? 'In case you turn into a thing too'?"

"I think he had a vision about me the other night," I informed my oldest brother anxiously. At Dean's widened eyes, I went on, "He hasn't told me exactly what he saw. But he just looked so _terrified _of me. The way he looked at me…I can't even imagine."

So when we picked up a trail of a case dealing with murderers who 'talked to angels', I knew we had to take it. I practically begged my brothers to get on this job. I mean, these people claimed that _angels_ came to visit them and that _angels_ were telling them to do all this crazy shit—like murder people apparently. Being that I wasn't exactly a stranger to the whole "angel" visit thing, I just—I needed to see what was occurring with these people.

Dean continued his skeptical behavior of angels, of course. Sam, like always, had slightly more faith in the whole concept though. Me? I just didn't know anymore. I didn't know what to believe. The possibility of angels just kept getting more and more likely. Especially when we learned that all of the murder victims had been just flat out appalling people. It made sense in the whole 'punishing the sinners' kind of way. Well, we tracked the victims down to this one church. Heaven behold: Our Lady of Angels.

"The victims were parishioners of mine," the priest of the church enlightened us when we stopped in. "I'd known them for years."

"And the killers said that an angel made them do that?" Sam asked Father Reynolds politely.

"Is that even possible?" I continued on from what my brother inquired. The priest gave me a melancholy shake of his head.

"No, it's not. They're misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic," he denied kindly.

"So you don't believe in those angel yarns?" Dean interpreted. I shot him an irritated glance.

The priest shook his head and countered, "Oh, no, I absolutely believe. Kind of goes with the job description." I smiled slightly.

"Father," Sam piped up. I followed his gaze and my eyes fell upon a painting placed upon the wall. It was one of those typical artworks depicted an angel. I didn't understand what Sam's interest in it was. "That's Michael, right?" I felt my heart drop. _Michael_. The angel from my _dream_?

"_Michael_?" I nearly shrieked in alarm. Dean and Sam creased their foreheads at me in confusion while a stunned look crossed the priest's face. I flushed, and stuttered, "Sorry, I just—a mythology class I took. I know a lot about him. It's, uh…it's almost like I've met him!" Dean shrugged it off and dropped his gaze quickly. The priest offered me a small praising smile. But Sam—Sam wore a deep, concerned frown.

"Well, he is quite fascinating," Father Reynolds chuckled. I smiled nervously. "The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons, holy force against evil."

"So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks?" Sam questioned. "They're fierce, right? Vigilant?"

The priest denied this, "Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful; but yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. 'An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified.'"

After we found out that one of the other priests had been murdered a few months ago, the three of us concluded with our own opposing views. Dean believed it was the spirit of the dead priest, seeking vengeance. Sam remained insistent on angels. And once again, I was trapped in the middle. I honestly didn't know what to believe. But I think I was leaning towards the spirit.

"You know what, Dean? I don't understand! Why can't you even consider the possibility—"

"What, that this is an angel?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, guys, stop!" I cried, rubbing my head as I had listened to my brothers argue. "Look, I don't know what this is, but spirit or angel, can we stop arguing about it? It's not gonna get anything done! One, it seems very likely that this is a spirit, Sam. And two, I didn't believe in this stuff either, but with everything that's been happening lately—I don't see why it's so hard to consider that angels could exist, Dean."

"I just—I don't," Dean answered, shaking his head. "Lucy, you're going off of a dream you had. And that's exactly what it was, okay? It was a _dream_, not angels. Sammy, you've got faith. Good for you. I'll tell you who else had faith like that—Mom. She used to tell me and you when she tucked us in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me."

I smiled ever so slightly. "Dad told me that too—the day before he died. About her and her faith. He said he believed in it because of her."

"Well, then they were both wrong," Dean stated. I stared at him with a heavy frown. I hated when he talked like this. "Mom was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm going to need to see some hard proof. Either of you got any?" Sam and I remained silent.

"Well, I do. Proof that we're dealing with a spirit."

~o~

Well, Dean was right. It was a spirit all along. The spirit of the deceased Father to be specific. In fact this whole hunt turned out to be one big proof that angels didn't exist. At least that's how Dean looked at it. I was still unsure. And though Sam retained his faith, it seemed to have dimmed faintly. He was still frightened of his "destiny" laid out by the Yellow Eyed demon.

"Sam, there is a lot of evil in this world," I whispered to him later on when we were alone in the hotel room. I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But you're not part of it. I said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not giving up on you. You hear me?"

Sam grinned at me graciously, and I leaned my head against his shoulder. He inhaled deeply and forebodingly. I looked up at him in fret. Frowning, he said, "You know, when you first started mentioning angels, I was so convinced that they really were appearing to you. I still have my doubts that they're not. But like Father Reynolds said, 'men can't be angels'. I don't know why I'm freaking out about it."

My forehead creased in utter bewilderment. "What the hell are you rambling about?"

Sam set his lips in a thin line. After a long pause, he finally answered, "I know you've been waiting for me to explain this to you. I'm finally ready to now. I had a vision about you that one night at the Roadhouse. At least I thought I did. It was...a shocking sight really. It's like you weren't you. You had these bright, white eyes. It looked like that light that came from the spirit Father Gregory. And…Lucy, you. You had _wings_. Bright, glowing, white wings. You—looked like an angel. Or how I'd assume an actual angel to appear."

I was stunned speechless. I appeared to him as an angel in one of his visions. What. The. Fucking. Hell. So what, first angels are popping up around me and now I am one? No, I'm _human_. I am the fully human daughter of the completely human John and Mary Winchester and the fully human sister of my entirely human brothers Sam and Dean Winchester. Nothing else. I couldn't be.

He let out a gasp of laughter. He sounded—almost relieved. "But I guess I was wrong. It must have not been a vision. It was a dream. 'Men can't be angels'. I'm not worried about you turning into anything anymore. Because it was just a dream."

"How can you be so sure? Huh?" I persisted worriedly. Sam beamed at me gracefully, nudging me with his broad shoulder lovingly.

"Because I am. Because I have faith in you. The same way you have faith in me," he assured, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him dependently. "We're not turning into anything else, okay? We're human—and it's gonna stay that way."

~o~

_February 11, 2007_

"Hey, guys."

Sam sat in the middle of a dark hotel room numbly, staring at his hands. He didn't even spare a glance at Dean and me when we entered. Sam had been missing for over a week now. He vanished at some point in Texas while we were hitting up a bar around January 30th. He left no traces. My oldest brother and I had been racing over the whole country in search of him and now…here he was.

I placed an alarmed hand on the side of Sam's face. "Are you okay, Sammy? Where the hell have you been?"

Dean knelt beside him, checking him over. His gaze paused on Sam's hand and on his shirt. A smattering of blood was dried on both parts. "Are you bleeding?" Dean asked quietly.

"I tried to wash it off," Sam grumbled. I watched as Dean investigated the blood stains more, his worry increasing. "I-I don't think it's my blood."

"Then whose is it?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" I questioned. "What happened? You've been gone for almost two weeks." Sam lifted his eyes for the first time since we got there and shook his head at Dean and me.

"Guys," he stated nervously, "I don't remember anything."

Okay, now _that _was weird. And the weird didn't end there. With Sam's amnesia, he was convinced he had actually hurt someone—maybe even killed someone. I refused to believe it. According to witnesses around though, Sam had apparently been acting quite out of line. Getting drunk in public, smoking like a chimney and tossing bottles at other people's heads. Yep, that didn't sound like my brother _at all_. It wasn't him.

But when we checked out this dead guy's house…well, the murder of a hunter named Steve Wendell was caught on his conveniently placed security camera. It clearly showed Sam on camera murdering this guy—and I mean slaughtering him. It was _awful_ to watch. And to see the look on my brother's face. _No!_ He didn't do this! There has to be some kind of other explanation to this.

Luckily, I wasn't alone on this. Dean entirely agreed with me. "It wasn't you! All right?" Dean yelled at him. "I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you." I nodded, placing my hands on my hips determinedly.

"Dean's right, Sam. You're not capable of unjustifiable murder and we all know it!" I reasoned, desperate to get it through his thick head.

"Do we really?" Sam inquired, shaking his head. "Cause I don't think we can know that for sure. I think it was me. I think maybe more than you two know." I crossed my arms and shifted my weight, eyeing him concernedly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean persisted. Sam took a seat on the bed in the motel room and took a deep breath. He looked anywhere but us.

"For the last few weeks I've been having…I've been having these feelings," Sam started. Dean and I shared a look of worry and moved to sit down across from him. "I've been feeling rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day it gets worse. I would have told you…I just didn't want to scare you guys."

"Well, bang-up job on that," Dean grumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"We're sure as hell scared now," I added as gently as I could muster.

Switching his eyes between Dean and me, Sam continued, "The yellow-eyed demon—you know he has plans for me. And we all know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

"No one can control you but you," Dean insisted.

"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean," Sam interrupted, "it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming...I'm becoming who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am."

I rolled my eyes. "No, Sam, you're _meant_ to be our brother! That's it," I cried irritably. "Stop acting like you're this demon's bitch! You're _not_ turning into anything other than my big brother. We promised each other that we're not turning into anything else! This is me having faith in you! Have a little faith in yourself."

Sam considered my words, and then shook his head slowly. "I can't," he whispered. "If I've killed someone…if this is it…then there's only one way to solve this." Sam stood and dug through the duffel bag placed on the bed. Shuffling through the contents, he decided on a gun resting on the top of the pile. He held it up to Dean determinedly and forced our oldest brother to take it from him.

Dean shook his head, matching Sam's resoluteness. "No. No, man, come on. I'm not doing this," he mumbled, trying to hand the gun back. But Sam wouldn't have it.

"Dean, you promised Dad. You promised me," he reminded, shoving the gun back in his direction. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt either of you."

"You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it," Dean told him gently. Tears started to brim Sam's eyes.

"No. I can't. Not forever. Here, you gotta do it," Sam insisted, placing the gun back into Dean's hands. I'd had enough. I grabbed the gun straight out of Dean's grip and—with a check to assure it wouldn't fire—tossed it back on the bed with a deadest glare at my middle brother. We were silent for an extended amount of time.

"I can't. I'd rather die," Dean finally whispered. I gave a subtle nod in agreement and turned my back on Sam. I didn't want to listen to this anymore. None of it.

"No, you'll live," I heard Sam say from behind me. "You'll live to regret this." Before I could even consider the oddity of that comment, Dean received a sharp clonk in the head with the butt of the gun in Sam's hands. I whirled around in shock, preparing to reprimand my brother. But he was too quick for me. Before I knew it, I was knocked unconscious as well, right alongside my oldest brother.

~o~

That big moronic, idiotic, fucking little bitch! What the _hell _had gotten into Sam? He knocked us out and then abandoned us in the hotel room to go god knows where! Apparently that place was a tiny town in Minnesota. I was literally going to kill him when I got my hands on him!

Dean and I pulled up to a bar within the town where we tracked Sam's phone to. With a tinge of sadness, I realized that it kinda reminded me of the Roadhouse. But of course, I haven't gone back to the Roadhouse in over two months. I just…couldn't. Stepping out of a stolen car, Dean and I grabbed our guns and swiftly approached the building.

Dean nodded at me. "On the count of three. One, two…"

We barged into the bar. Sam glanced up from his current task with a look of surprise. Like he honestly thought we wouldn't be able to track him here. He had a blonde woman tied to a wooden pillar. We advanced rapidly, guns aimed directly at him. The fact that I was pointing a shotgun at my own brother absolutely killed me. But I had no choice. In a fluid move, he yanked a knife from the pillar and placed it at the woman's throat. I finally glanced down at the woman he was holding hostage.

It was Jo.

"Sam, let her go _now_," I growled, progressing on my brother. Jo faced me with wide, fearful eyes. I flinched when Sam buried the knife even closer to her throat. My gun aim faltered slightly.

"I begged you to stop me," Sam cried frantically. "Dean, I told you to kill me when you had the chance!"

"Put the knife down, damnit," Dean ordered.

"Sam, this is insane!" I wailed, my voice breaking off into a gasp.

"I told you I can't fight it!" Sam roared. "My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! One of you kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You've be doing me a favor! Shoot me. Shoot me!"

My lower lip trembled and I felt frantic tears pooling in my eyes. I glanced over at Dean. He displayed a similar expression to mine. His gun trembled in his hands. "No, Sammy, come on." He dropped the gun to his side and turned away from our brother. I shakily kept my gun trained on him, though the effort was almost unbearable.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Dean—"

"What's wrong with him?" I shrieked frantically, fresh tears dripping down my cheeks. "What's wrong with _you_? What are you even doing? This isn't you!"

"You're right about that, Luce." I looked to Dean in confusion. He suddenly whipped around and splashed something on Sam from a vial. Was that…holy water? I watched in horror as smoke rose from where the holy water struck Sam. He hissed and flailed in reaction and when he glanced up…his eyes were black. My brother had been possessed by a demon this whole time.

With a growl, Sam—well, the demon—turned and bolted out the window. Glass shattered everywhere—enough so that I was unable to see the demon fleeing from the scene. I barely registered Dean cutting Jo free, or him leaping though the smashed window in pursuit of the demon. Instead, I despairingly plopped down into the closest chair, shock overcoming my emotions. More tears flooded my eyes.

"Lucy?"

My eyes met Jo's apprehensive gaze. I tried desperately to search for the right words to say to her. A bitter laugh bubbled from my lips and I choked through my tears, "Well, that's been my past two months in a nutshell." Jo could only stare for a moment, eyebrows raised. Finally, her mouth twitched into a smile and she laughed. _God_, I missed that laugh.

It was still tense between us, I wouldn't deny that. But in those two months we'd been apart—I hated it. I didn't want to repeat that. I didn't care what she had said, or what my Dad had done or anything that's happened in the past. I just wanted to be…us again. Despite this, it remained edgy between us when we began to search for my brothers.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly whispered while we were strolling along the docks in search for Dean. I glanced over at her in surprise, my phone still up to my ear. I closed it mid-voicemail, eagerly waiting for her to go on. "It was so wrong of me to say what I did. It's not like it's your fault my dad died. Saying your dad wasn't a hero—that was out of line for me. If anyone said that about my dad, they'd probably be withering on the floor." She stopped in her tracks and looked me dead in the eye. "I don't want to fight with one of the only people I've really ever felt connected to."

"I don't want to fight either, Jo," I muttered softly. With a shrug, I continued, "I understand why you said it. Doesn't mean I'm not butt hurt about it still but…I'll get over it. I want to get over it. Cause—goddamnit Jo, I _missed _you. So I'm sorry too." She nodded. And when we shared a small smile of genuine affection, I knew we were going to be okay.

Before we resumed our search, one more thought popped into Jo's head. "Hey, Lu? I know demons lie, but do they ever tell the truth?"

I pondered this for a moment, before nodding. "I'd assume they do. Obviously not all the time, but—I'm sure they definitely do sometimes." Jo sucked in her bottom lip, a look of dejection appearing on her face. "Why? What's wrong?"

She mustered a smile, and shook her head. "It's nothing. Really. It doesn't matter." I rolled my eyes.

"No, no, come on. You can't do that. You can tell me," I pestered her. She sighed heavily, biting down on the corner of her lip nervously.

"Okay, well, it's just—Sam was possessed, right?" I nodded. "Well, first of all, he said that I, um, I 'had it bad for you'. But…you, uh, didn't think of me that way. That I was more like a best friend…like a sister." Bravely, she peered up at me to watch my expression. I had to bite down the grin that rose to my lips.

"Do you? You know—'have it bad for me'," I smirked, wagging my eyebrows. She rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to shove me. I took a step closer to her. "Well, this particular demon is a lying little bitch. Because…you are _so_ much more to me than just a best friend. Okay?" I ignored the heat that flooded to my cheeks at my own words. I forced myself to ignore the beautiful beam that crossed Jo's face. Instead, I dialed Dean's number once again and returned to the search for my brothers.

~o~

Dean sustained a small gunshot wound which Jo was easily able to fix up nicely. The demon possessing Sam apparently shot him and ran off to somewhere unbeknownst to us. But considering the demon was going after hunters, we assumed it must be heading to Bobby's since he was closest to the area.

"Hey, Lucy!"Jo called directly before we left. I whirled around to face her. With a smile, she said, "Call me, okay?" I returned her smile quickly and repeated the same words I'd told her before when we first met:

"Will do."

~o~

**Jo/Lucy. Jocy. Unf. I'm loving it.**

**TALL TALES WEEEE!**


	16. Tricks and Treats

**The only things I have to say: 1) SEASON NINNEEEEEEEE EIIIIIEEEEEEEE; 2) GABRIELLLLLLLLLL.**

**Tall Tales, at long last! Enjoy! :)**

**~o~**

**Chapter 16  
Tricks and Treats**

For a demon, Meg was a genius. It turns out she had been the one who'd possessed Sam, and she'd grown a hell of a lot stronger since the last time we met her. She was even smart enough to set up a binding spell on my brother's body so we wouldn't be able to expel her. Don't get me wrong, I was absolutely pissed at the demon for everything—especially this whole charade now. But she was incredibly intelligent. Not like we didn't outsmart her in the end though. Bobby seared the binding mark right off Sam's skin. And just like that, Meg was gone.

~o~

_February 21, 2007_

My freaking brothers have been pissing me off for four days straight now. On the 17th, we'd taken up this job in Springfield, Ohio where a successful professor had leaped from the building he taught at. Normally, my brothers and I would have written this off as a normal thing, possibly just a regular suicide. Except, we discovered a myth of the building being haunted. So we thought 'why not' and decided to check it out.

But ever since we started this stupid case, it seemed like my idiot older brothers were just getting on my last nerve more and more. I honestly was about ready to strangle the both of them. We were all stumped on this case—two more victims of whatever this thing was had been claimed in the time we'd been investigating. And lemme tell you, it got pretty freaking weird.

Presently, I sat curled up on an armchair in the hotel we were lodging in. A magazine was propped in my hands and I flipped through the pages, bored. Sam was across from me, rubbing his eyes tiredly and searching through countless books in an attempt to research this hunt. So far, we were receiving nada. Irritably, I struggled to concentrate on words written on the pages of my magazine through Dean's music playing throughout the hotel room along with his noising munching—not to mention Sam's constant sighing.

"Dude!" Sam addressed suddenly and wearily to Dean. "You mind not eating those on my bed?_"_ I scrunched my nose in disgust as Dean grabbed another handful of some kinda gross and sloppy clump of fries and shoved them in his mouth.

"No, I don't mind," he replied spitefully.

"Ugh, remind me to sleep on the couch," I muttered with a roll of my eyes.

"Whatever, loser," Dean scoffed. Gritting my teeth, I ignored him. "How's research going?"

"You know how it's going?" Sam exclaimed impatiently, slamming one of the book shut and throwing it back on the table. "Slow. You know how it would go a heck of a lot faster? If I had my computer." I sighed, annoyed. Here we go again. Sam grabbed another book and I harshly turned a page of my magazine. The tense air between us was undeniable. "Would you turn that down please?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

The music grew louder. I shot a heavy glare up at my oldest brother, peering out from my magazine. Fuming, I flipped another page loudly. Sam spared Dean and me both frustrated glances.

Addressing me, Sam ordered, "Would you do something, please? Like research maybe? I mean, you're reading about…" He glanced at the front cover of the magazine and raised his eyebrows. "The winner of America's Next Top Model."

"She's got the full package, hot and funny. I knew she'd win," I commented, barely even glancing up at my brother. When I did, I rolled my eyes at his judgmental gaze. "What do you expect me to do? Research obviously isn't working out really well for you. We're not gonna get anywhere like that."

Sam shot me a sarcastic glance. "Well maybe if _someone_ didn't mess with my computer—"

"I didn't touch your freaking computer, Sam!" I exclaimed, and rolled my eyes once again as the volume of the music increased even more. "Really!" I shot at Dean.

"Maybe you should just go somewhere for a while," Sam suggested, attempting to maintain a calm tone. Dean flicked the radio off.

"Hey, I'd love to. That's a great idea. Unfortunately, my car's all screwed to hell!" Dean snapped, glowering at Sam and me. I dropped the magazine into my lap, giving my oldest brother and incredulous look.

"Your _car's_ screwed to hell? Have you seen my phone lately—"

Dean furrowed his eyebrows at me. "You mean the one _you_ broke—"

"Yeah, that's why it was next to the Impala—"

"Next to _Sam's_ wallet!"

Sam clenched his jaw, shooting Dean a hateful glimpse. "Dean, for the last time, I had nothing to do with—"

A knock on the door of the room cut off our aggravated bickering. When Dean and I made no effort to rise from our spots, Sam rolled his eyes and stood. He peered through the peephole and with a relieved expression, opened the door wide enough to reveal Bobby. Oh thank _god_, he was finally here. I wasn't sure how much longer I could have taken my brothers alone.

After a quick greeting, my brothers and I gathered around our adoptive uncle. "So um, what didn't you want to talk to me on the phone about?" Bobby questioned curiously. Sam, Dean and I exchanged a glance, silently debating which one of us would start to explain it to him—and even _where_ to start. There was so much…

Sam took the lead, beginning to say, "It's this job we're working. We weren't sure you'd believe us. We've never seen anything like it, and we thought we could use some fresh eyes."

Bobby nodded, absorbing this thoughtfully. "Well, why don't you begin at the beginning?" he recommended, taking a seat on one of the beds—after moving Dean's disgusting empty grease tray of old food out of the way. Dean perched on the edge of the other one, while Sam and I took seats in two chairs surrounded the table.

"So," Sam initiated, "it all started when we caught wind of an obit. See, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pre-texted as reporters from the local paper…"

_FLASHBACK – Sam's side_

_Lucy leaned against the counter in the bar's bathroom, fixing her makeup. Just the essentials—reapplying her mascara, blending out her smokey eyeshadow. She was attempting to stay out of the way while her middle brother gathered some information about the case they'd picked up today. Some dumb professor and a haunted building—it didn't really matter to her._

_Satisfied with her appearance, she strode back out into the noisy atmosphere of the college bar. She noticed her oldest brother flirting with some blonde bimbo, and she rolled her green eyes as she took a seat a few spots away from him. She crossed her arms grumpily, watching in repulsion as Dean gulped down three shots of some purple liquor._

_Sam marched over to his siblings, staring depreciatively at his older brother. "Dean, what are you drinking?" he demanded in revulsion. Dean turned to face his younger siblings in surprise, a lazy smile growing on his face. He burped._

_"I don't know, man, I think they're called purple nurples?" he slurred._

_"That's gross," Lucy commented._

_Sam ignored his brother and sister and continued, "Okay, well listen. I think maybe we should go check out the professor's office—"_

_He was interrupted by Lucy's groan of complaint and Dean's protesting. "Can't we just go back to the hotel, I don't feel good. The guy's already dead, who cares," his sister complained. Dean also protested._

_"No, no, no, no professor's office and no hotel, I can't right now," Dean dissented, leaning close to his siblings as if telling them a huge secret. "I've got some feisty little wildcat on the hook, I'm about to — zzzzp — reel her in. I'll introduce you." Dean called over a blonde woman in a revealing outfit and tight, fishnet stockings. "Starla! This is my shuttle co-pilot Major Tom and one of the flight attendants, Christine. Major Tom, Christine—Starla."_

_"Enchante," the girl grinned, slinging an arm around Dean's shoulders. Lucy glared at the girl, grouchily. Dean wagged his eyebrows at his younger siblings suggestively._

_"Hey. Good news. She's got a sister," Dean added with a glance at Sam, and then at Lucy. "And a brother!" Lucy grunted with distain once more—_

_PRESENT_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute!" Dean interrupted Sam's story in objection. "Come on, dude, that's not how it happened."

"Yeah, seriously, since when am I_ that_ grumpy?" I ranted. Sam shot me a dubious glance.

"Are you kidding me? You're always that negative!" Sam declared. Before I could open my mouth to protest, he turned his attention to Dean, quirking an eyebrow at him. "And so you're saying you never drank a purple nurple?"

Dean debated for a moment before shrugging it off and replying, "Yeah, maybe that, but I don't say things like 'feisty little wildcat'. And her name wasn't Starla!"

"Then what was it?"

"…I don't know." I scoffed. That's my brother for ya. Dean took his story up to Bobby. "But she was a classy chick. She was a grad student, anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories…"

_FLASHBACK – Dean's side_

_Lucy looked on in disgust as her oldest brother made out with some chick in a black dress he'd just met. Ugh, she couldn't believe him right now. They were supposed to be getting work done, but instead he was…canoodling with the locals. She approached her brother, crossing her arms over her chest._

_"That doesn't look like work, Dean," she interrupted loudly and sassily. Her brother glanced up at her, vaguely regarding her. He returned without a second glance to the blonde chick. "How do you expect us to get anything done? And how long have you even known this chick? You might wanna make sure she's clean, unlike half the people you sleep with. Cause you're gonna get in big trouble someday and I don't want you crying off to me."_

_Sam appeared behind her, prissily slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He and his sister shared a look, agreeing on their irritation. "Dean, what do you think you're doing?" Sam asked sassily, giving his older brother one of the biggest Bitchfaces known to the world. Dean peered up again, breaking off the slow kiss with the girl in front of him. He turned to his siblings._

_"Sam, Luce, if you wouldn't mind, give me five minutes here."_

_Sam and Lucy did not let the issue go. Lucy nagged, "Oh my god, Dean. We don't _have_ five minutes. What are you even doing with your life? Just stop."_

_Sam pressed primly, "Dean, this is a very serious investigation. We don't have any time for any of your—blah blah blah blah." Dean leaned into the girl once again, blocking out his brother and sister's nagging. "Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah Blah!"_

_"Blah!"_

_PRESENT_

"Right. And that's how it really happened," Sam interjected sarcastically. When Dean shrugged, Sam cried, "I don't sound like that, Dean!"

"That's what you sound like to me…"

"And I do not nag!" I exclaimed, glaring at my oldest brother. "You are literally so stupid—"

"See! You're nagging right now, you do it all the time!"

I shook my head, and turned to a very skeptical looking Bobby. "No, you want to know what_ really_ happened? I'll tell the story right…"

_FLASHBACK – Lucy's side_

_Lucy sat at the bar, shuffling through some newspapers depicting what had happened at her and her brothers' latest job. A professor in a haunted building—it had to be something simple, right? Ghost maybe? Whatever it was, she'd be able to figure it out._

_"What can I get you, miss?" the young, attractive bartender asked her. She smiled up at him, attempting to stack her papers into one organized pile._

_"Just water right now. I'm trying to keep my head clear for the moment," she replied politely. The bartender dipped his head at her, giving her a charming smile. She couldn't prevent the one that grew on her face. She returned his slightly flirtatious look as he set the water down in front of her, observing his blue twinkling eyes._

_"So, what are you trying to keep your head clear for?" he asked interestedly._

_"Oh…just a crime investigation. My partners and I are trying to dig up the dirty details, you know?" she responded, somewhat egotistically. The bartender wore an impressed expression._

_"You with the cops?"_

_Lucy grinned mysteriously. "Something like that."_

_"Wow," the bartender commented, leaning with his elbows on the bar. "Pretty and badass."_

_Lucy giggled, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Sorry, I'm kinda taken," she informed him with genuine remorse. The bartender merely shrugged._

_"I kinda figured with a gorgeous face like yours." Lucy giggled charmingly once more. She suddenly heard a loud, obnoxious laugh booming from the opposite side of the bar. She rolled her eyes. It was her brother and some drunken chick he'd been trying to hit up all night long. She excused herself and marched over to her drunken, boisterous brother._

_"Dean!" she snapped. Her brother twirled around, stumbling slightly. "We're supposed to be working. You know, our job. The reason we came here in the first place."_

_He slung an arm around his little sister's shoulders, pulling her into him and almost sending them tumbling to the ground. "Lucyyyyyy come on! Live a little! Try this!" He shoved a shot of purple liquid into her hand. She rolled her eyes and placed it back on the bar counter. "Hey, Anastasia!" The blonde bimbo wearing way too short shorts and a thin white tank top pranced over and smashed her lips to Lucy's brother's. Lucy scoffed in disgust._

_"Ewwwww," Sam moaned from beside her. Her other brother had kinda popped out of nowhere. "Dean, you're revolting!"_

_"Hey, don't knock it before you try it, brothah!" Dean wheezed, breaking off contact from the bimbo._

_"I don't want to try it cause you know why? My life sucks!" Sam whined, stomping his foot. Lucy glanced in between her older brothers wearily, and attempted to reason with them._

_"Will you guys both shut up? Come on, we really need to check out this case—"_

_Dean suddenly beamed after chugging down another shot, and interrupted his sister. "Hey, hey, check this out!" He grabbed two more shots from the bar counter, filling his mouth with the alcohol. He held it there until his eyes started to water from the taste. He started to choke, and then finally chugged them both down at once._

_"Deeeeeannn—"Sam complained. Dean raised a fist and whooped at the top of his lungs._

_PRESENT_

"'I'll tell the story right'. Lucy that was literally the most inaccurate out of the three of us!" Dean exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

I shrugged. "Sounded pretty accurate to me."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, sure, and I whine like a baby all the time."

"Well…"

Bobby had enough of us. "Okay. What's going on with you three? You're all bickering like an old married couple." I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, while Dean rose from his seat to the kitchen.

"No," he began, "see married couples can get divorced. We're like, uh, Siamese twins—or triplets I guess." I almost snorted at the stupid comment that came out of my brother's mouth.

"It's conjoined twins!" Sam corrected exasperatedly.

"Siamese is a _cat_, Dean!" I added. God, my brothers were so dumb.

"See what I mean?" Dean replied in Bobby's benefit. I slumped back against my chair in a grump. It had been like this between my brother's and me for _days_ now. I was going to kill them.

"Look," Sam sighed, trying to reassure Bobby. "We've just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it." After Bobby nodded reluctantly, he continued, "So anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime…"

_FLASHBACK – Lucy's POV_

_On the night of the 18__th__, my brothers and I decided to investigate the school, dressed as electricians. I was surprised at the size of the structure—it definitely looked like a building that could be haunted. A janitor was there to let us into the giant building and into the professor's office._

_"So, how long have you been working here?" Sam asked the janitor curiously._

_"I've been mopping this floor for six years," he replied, pushing open the door to the dark office and flicking on the lights. "There you go, guys." We stepped into the room and Sam pulled out his EMF. "Got more like you working on the force?"_

_I glanced over at the janitor. A flirtatious smirk played on his face. I'll admit it; he was kinda attractive with the swooshy brown hair and amber eyes. I smiled, strolling away from him towards the large desk. "Nah, hon, I'm one of a kind," I responded lightly._

_"What the heck's that for?" the janitor inquired, gesturing down to the EMF meter in Sam's hands. Sam lied efficiently, making up something about the wire in the walls. "Huh. Wow. Not sure why you're wiring up this office. Not gonna do the professor much good."_

_Dean looked over his shoulder at him. "Why's that?"_

_"He's dead," the janitor replied bluntly._

_Dean, Sam and I faked surprise. "Oh. What happened?" Dean asked._

_The janitor pointed towards the window behind me. A light breeze danced along the curtains. "He went out that window. Right there."_

_"Kinda a long jump," I commented. "Must have landed pretty flat on that sidewalk down there." The janitor smiled._

_"You bet, sweetheart," he chimed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the flirting. There was an annoying pestering in my head. Something was vaguely familiar about him. Maybe he just had one of those faces. "I'm the one who found him. I just saw him come up here, and uh…well."_

_I quirked an eyebrow, moving to stand beside Sam, facing the janitor. "What?" Sam questioned, interestedly._

_"He wasn't alone," the janitor smirked. This time both of my eyebrows rose. Dean came up to stand next to me._

_"Who waz he wiff," Dean asked through a mouth of something—I think they were caramels. Sam and I shot him equal looks of distain as he tried to chew through his chipmunk cheeks. Fucking hell, Dean…_

_"He was with a young lady. I told the cops about her, but I guess they never found her."_

_"You saw this girl go in?" Sam continued to question. "Did you ever see her come out?"_

_The janitor shook his head. "Now that you mention it, no."_

_"That's a bit creepy," I stated, exchanging a glance with Sam. "What about beforehand—was she ever around?"_

_"Well, not her," the janitor said with another smirk._

_"Whadd'ou mean?" Dean spoke muffled once again. I resisted the aggravated sigh that wanted to seep out of my mouth._

_"I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy," the janitor explained with his smirk, "But Mister Morality? He brought a lot of girls up here…Got more ass than a toilet seat." Dean burst out laughing rather loudly, while I blinked in surprise at the comment._

_"That was vivid," I noted. The janitor looked relatively pleased with himself._

_After a glare at Dean, Sam added, "One more thing. This building, it only has four stories, right? There wouldn't be a room six-six-nine?" The janitor gave one short shake of his head._

_"'Course not. Why do you ask?"_

_"Just curious," Sam smiled, exchanging one last knowing look with me. "Thanks." As we were heading out of the office, I stopped in the doorway, turning back to the janitor._

_"Hey. Do I—do I know you?" I asked him. I couldn't place it but there was just…__something__. Maybe we'd met him before on a hunt or…I don't know. I could have sworn though…_

_The janitor shook his head yet again. "Nope, not that I know of," he replied. The trademark smirk appeared on his face and he added, "Do you want to?" He winked. I bit back an irritated expression, and instead put on my best smile._

_"I think I'll pass, thanks," I whispered, and followed my brothers out of the office._

_This case was making no sense whatsoever. No EMFs, no haunted building. We had started to figure that the whole crime had just been a regular suicide. But the girl the janitor described. I don't know, it was just…too odd. I guess the best thing we could do was just to research to our fullest extent._

_Back at the hotel, I made to grab my phone from the desktop where I last left it. Huh. That was funny. It wasn't there. But—I could have sworn I left it there. While my brothers and I conversed about the case, I shuffled through my belongings in search for it. I couldn't find a trace of it._

_"—it's frozen now. On uh, bustyasianbeauties dot com," I vaguely picked up Sam saying. At the glance I spared at him, I realized he was staring at his computer screen, confused. I shook my head, electing to ignore Dean and Sam. I sighed in defeat…my phone was gone. It must have been one of my brothers._

_"Why don't you control your OCD?" I heard Dean shoot at Sam. Crossing my arms, I stomped up to the table that Sam was seated at._

_"What'd you do with my phone?" I questioned him accusingly. He threw his hands out, shaking his head at me. I glowered._

_"I didn't touch your phone, Lucy," he assured, returning his focus back to his frozen computer. I quirked an eyebrow at Dean, who stood in the doorway._

_"Don't look at me, I don't know where you put it!" Dean rebuffed, stalking back into a different room. I clenched my jaw._

_"_I_didn't do anything," I prompted, following him into the room irritably. "I remember where I put it, and it's not there."_

_Dean gave me a smirk that pissed me off to no end and indicated, "Well then, maybe you aren't the know-it-all you think you are. Sucks, don't it?" My jaw dropped, and I glared at his retreating back._

_PRESENT_

"Well, point being," I interrupted pointedly, "we found nothing on the building. Which is one of the reasons we're so confused about this job. It's not a haunting. But then again, we're not really sure it was a haunting to begin with."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Bobby questioned. My brothers and I shared a glance, and Sam designated to explain for us.

"Well, it's weird—"

Dean interrupted, "This next part, we uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty friggin' weird. Even for us—"

"And we mean like, _beyond_ weird," I finished.

"All right, go on then," Bobby indicated for us to continue. Sam enlightened Bobby that one of the college boys he had talked to, a douche jock named Curtis, had been abducted. Yep. By aliens. While I did indeed believe in aliens, the thought of them zooming down to Earth and snatching up a random kid seemed a bit to out of the ordinary to me. And apparently, Bobby felt identically.

"Aliens?" he repeated doubtfully. "_Aliens_?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous—"I started.

"Not only that, but even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people!" Bobby denied. "My whole life I've never found evidence of an honest-to-God abduction. It's all just cranks and pranks."

Sam nodded and shrugged. "Yeah, that's what we thought," he agreed. "But...we figured we'd at least talk to the guy."

Struggling to restrain the laughter that was dying to escape from my mouth, I choked out, "He—he said the alien _probed_ him like 600 times and then—this is the best part—_made him slow dance_." Sam snorted, breaking off into silent laughter. I bit my lip in an attempt to remain serious.

Rolling his eyes, Bobby asked, "You guys are exaggerating again, huh?"

"No," Sam, Dean and I replied in unison. Dean continued, "I know you must be thinking that this frat boy is cuckoo for cocopuffs, and we started to think so too. That is until we found a perfectly round scorch mark in the ground right in front of the college—almost like a crop circle. We thought there couldn't possibly be a connection between the professor's and the frat boy's cases. But what could we do? So we just kept on digging."

_FLASHBACK – Dean's side_

_"So, you and this guy, Curtis," Sam began, addressing another college student who knew the frat boy who had been abducted. The siblings figured he might have known something—or at least have given them some clues. "You were in the same house?"_

_The college student confirmed this, and Dean went on, "You heard what happened to him, right?"_

_"Yeah, he says it was aliens," the student acknowledged with a shrug, "but, you know…whatever."_

_"You don't believe in aliens?" Lucy questioned. The kid shrugged once more._

_"Look, man, I," Sam assumed emotionally, "I know this all has to be so hard. But I want you to know... I'm here for you. You brave little soldier. I acknowledge your pain." Sam pulled the alarmed student in for a tight embrace and sighed, placing a cheek on his forehead. "Too precious for this world." (__Present: "I never said that!" Sam cried. Dean retorted, "You're always saying pansy stuff like that!" "Yeah, he's pretty spot on there, Sammy," I agreed.)_

_"Well, um... Yeah, uh, thanks._ _Thanks for the hug, but, uh, I'm okay. Really," the student expressed awkwardly. Sam released him and patted him heavily on the shoulder. "To tell you the truth, whatever happened to Curtis…he had it coming. I mean, he's our pledge master. Put us through hell this semester, and got off on it. So now he knows how we feel."_

_PRESENT_

"Well, let's see. First Lucy loses her phone," Dean listed. He cut off my retort, "And then Sam loses his laptop. And guess who they both blame?"

"Because one of you did take it!" Sam insisted. "No one else could have!"

I pushed myself into a sitting position on the table chair, feigning an epiphany. "Oh hey! Just like one of you must have taken my phone! 'Cause guess what? _I remember where I left it!_"

Bobby interrupted any further arguing between us for the time being. Looking between Dean and me, he inquired, "Did you take his computer?"

"Of course not!" I rejected.

"Serves him right, but no," Dean sneered.

"Alright, how about you two? Did you steal Lucy's phone?" Bobby tried to resolve. I raised my eyebrows at my older brothers accusingly.

"No!" Dean and Sam chorused. Dean added, "Why would I steal her phone?" I bit back a retort and fumed silently to myself.

"Okay. Why don't you just tell me what happened next?"

We explained to Bobby our third and final victim—another completely random and out of sync killing. Yeah, this guy from the college got ripped to shreds by—wait for it—an alligator in the sewers. Yep, I'm being completely serious. And you know what? I didn't feel a tinge of remorse for the guy. He fit one pattern—he was a dick! His job focus included animal testing…and that was definitely not okay with me. Whatever was killing and/or torturing these jerks at least had the right idea.

Well, anyway, that's when my brothers and I really started to turn on each other. Dean just so happened to find my phone next to his tired-slashed car, lying beside Sam's wallet. And guess how he returned it to me? Completely smashed. One of my dumbass brothers had jacked my phone and managed to shatter it to the point where it no longer functioned. Ugh, I couldn't _believe_ those two. You see why I'm pissed?!

"I'm surprised at you three. I really am," Bobby shamed after hearing more than enough of our story. "Sam, first off, Dean and Lucy did not steal your computer." He shushed him when Sam tried to protest, while I looked at my middle brother smugly.

"Dean, neither Lucy nor Sam messed with your car," he reasoned. (Yeah!" Sam exclaimed.) "And Lucy, Dean and Sam did not touch your phone or break it." I sighed resignedly, rubbing my temple.

"Well, they must have, cause I actually know what I do with my stuff!" I put up one last fight.

"Yeah, okay, Princess," Sam scoffed.

"If I'm the princess does that make you the queen ohhhhhh," I cheered at my own joke, smirking. Sam threw up his hands in frustration.

"That doesn't even make sense, you're pretty much the only gay one here!"

"I'm bi, thank you," I corrected sassily. Dean appeared confused.

"Wait, what do you mean _pretty much_?" he questioned. I raised an eyebrow.

"You really need to think about that?" I haggled him. It took him a slight moment before it clicked. I almost rolled my eyes—God, my brother is so dense.

"Dude! I dig chicks!"

"Can we get back on subject please?" Bobby interjected, annoyed with our antics. The three of us fell silent. "Thank you. Look, if you three bothered to pull your heads out of your asses, it all would have been pretty clear…what you're dealing with." When Sam, Dean and I shared confused, stumped glances, Bobby sighed exasperatedly. "You got a trickster on your hands."

Dean snapped his fingers and smiled up at Bobby. "That's what I thought!" My jaw almost dropped at the pure idiocy that was my oldest brother.

"What?! No, you didn't!" Sam cried.

"You are literally so full of it—"I started.

"I got to tell you... you guys were the biggest clue," Bobby stated. "These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight. It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you like fiddles."

"So, what is it?" Dean asked, now absorbed in the conversation. "Spirit, demon, what?"

"Well, more like demigods, really," Bobby countered. "There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in West Africa. Dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick. You see, the victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target the high and the mighty. Knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor—deadly pranks, things like that."

Dean appeared to be deep in thought when I glanced over at him. "Bobby, what do these things look like?" he asked. Oh yeah, he was definitely onto something.

"Well, human mostly."

"And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?" Dean threw out, looking pointedly at Sam and me. Sam frowned in thought for a slight moment, and then his face lit up in realization. I remained clueless, my mind scanning the individuals we had encountered on this particular job. And then…it clicked.

"The janitor?" I voiced, raising my eyebrows skeptically. "Come on, he's kinda a douche but he seems harmless." Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, but…he's the only lead we got right now, Luce," he reasoned. I sighed in defeat and nodded. But I went along with my brothers and Uncle Bobby on this and followed their lead as they planned to stage another fight. It wasn't really that difficult—Sam, Dean and I nearly fought all the time anyway.

Bobby, Sam and I places ourselves around different entrances to the college's auditorium where Dean and the janitor—the _Trickster_—were chatting. It turns out I had been wrong. He was most definitely our guy. Damn I kinda liked him. Nevertheless, I leaned against the door, bloody stake in my hand and waited for my oldest brother's cue.

"..You shouldn't have come alone," the Trickster told Dean. A slightly menacing tone had become apparent in his voice, and I took that as a sign to push open the bottom left door quietly. The Trickster sat in one of the audience seats, Dean standing before him. Two gorgeous scantily clad women rested upon a bed upon the stage. My eyes drifted upward to discover that Sam and Bobby had inaudibly entered the room as well.

"Well, I'll agree with you there," Dean stated. The doors behind Sam and Bobby closed loudly and the Trickster whirled around to face them in surprise. When I moved forward, his eyes caught my movements and his gaze shifted over to me.

"You too, huh?" he commented, one side of his mouth twitching into a grin. I shrugged.

"Sorry," I replied, half genuine and half sarcastic. "It's kinda my job." He shrugged in response and turned back to Dean, amused.

"That fight you guys had outside…that was a trick?" he pondered. At Dean's bashful expression, he nodded, impressed. "Not bad. But…you wanna see a real trick?" And with a mere flick of his hand, a daunting figure appeared behind Sam and the noise of a chainsaw ripped throughout the air. I jumped as my brother just barely dodged it.

Of the two women in revealing clothes, the brunette was the one to take charge and attack Dean, tossing him all the way towards the auditorium stage. Between the two women and the man with the chainsaw, none of them actually even attempted to advance on me. Even after I bolted up to the chainsaw man and elbowed him right in the side…well, he just seemed to…ignore me and focus on Sam and Bobby, just like the women centered on Dean.

What the hell?

The Trickster rose from his seat, shaking his head at my oldest brother. "Dean… I did not want to have to do this." Before I could even blink, Sam tossed one of the stakes to Dean. I jumped slightly as Dean plunged the stake into the Trickster's chest, grinding it.

"Me either," he growled. The man with the chainsaw vanished, as well as the two women covered in lingerie. With one last twist of the stake, Dean yanked it out and the Trickster fell backwards. He slumped in the audience chair, dead. Bobby, Sam and I moved over to Dean's side, staring at the deceased janitor-turned-monster.

"You guys okay?" Dean asked tiredly, wiping a bit of blood from his face with his sleeve. I frowned. Looking upon the dead man in front of me, something inside me felt…empty. Dreadful. I couldn't imagine why. I attempted to shake the gut feeling off and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I guess," Sam answered. Bobby shoved my brothers towards the stairs, determined to get the hell out of this college once and for all. But hesitantly, I lingered, gazing upon the Trickster curiously. I was absolutely stumped. Why the hell did he seem so familiar to me? I've never met him in my life!

Shaking my head at the body, I whispered, "Where do I know you from?" I examined his face for one last moment before sighing. Oh well, I guess it didn't matter much now. I trudged up the stairs, not sparing another look back. Not noticing the Trickster re-materializing right behind me. And certainly not noticing him staring wistfully after me.

~o~

_Happy season 9 everyone! I just. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_


	17. American Idiot

**Well, this chapter's going to be pretty short, but I have a feeling the next few will be a lot longer considering important episodes are coming up haha. But this one's full of fluffy stuff and some funny stuff as well as just a more fun side to Lucy that I hope you all enjoy.**

**As for the previous chapter, there were three reasons I wrote out "Tall Tales". One, to kinda relieve the dramatic plot line and add in some humour. Two, it's actually the basis of another major plotline building up for Lucy…you may see a summary change of the story that adds in a certain pairing…hehe. Three, I just really fucking love that episode XD**

**As you can probably tell by now, I'm trying to make up for some of the shortness of the chapter with this commentary…I'm sorry. I shall stop now. But. JOCYYYYYY. I'm so happy! :)**

**Disclaimer: I only own my Lucy!**

**~o~**

**Chapter 17  
American Idiot**

_March 28, 2007_

"_911, what's your emergency?"_

"Yeah, hello? Officers? Yeah, I'm calling to report a break-in."

"_Where would this break in be, m'am?"_

I stuffed another mouthful of cheesy fries into my mouth, leaning back in my chair with my feet propped up on the table in my hotel room. Through a mouthful, I answered, "Arkansas Museum of Anthropology. Yeah, two guys went in a few minutes ago. Both freakishly tall, one more so than the other. They both look like they'd be smart, but don't let that fool you, they're idiots. Not that I would know. No idea who they were, I have absolutely no relation to them whatsoever."

"_Thank you very much, m'am. We'll be right on it_."

"Uh huh," I chimed cheerfully and ended the call with a snap of my replaced phone. I swallowed down the last portion of my fries and stood to toss the box in the trash. So…this is what it was like to be free. To be all alone for once in my life. For the week I had, I think I was gonna enjoy this.

Sam and Dean were on a prison investigation. As in we received a call from an old Marine buddy of Dad's, Deacon, who worked in a haunted prison—or at least that's how he described it. So Dean came up with the brilliant plan to get him and Sam arrested to check it out more thoroughly. I was thrilled to help actually. My brothers in the slammer—now _that _was hilarious. Not to mention, it was a men's facility. So I pretty much had this whole week—and the Impala— to myself. Oh how things turn out.

I reached over to my iPod plugged into the speaker and twisted the volume up a few notches…okay, maybe a lot of notches.

"_Don't wanna be an American idiot.  
Don't want a nation under the new media.  
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?  
The subliminal mind fuck America."_

If you don't think I'm one of those lame chicks that sing into their hairbrush and pretend to be a professional—you're wrong. I twirled and jumped around the room, belting the lyrics, getting once again sucked into to the music of one of my favorite bands. My brothers _so_ would have made fun of me if they were here—like _to the extreme_.

"_Welcome to a new kind of tension.  
All across the alien nation.  
Where everything isn't meant to be okay.  
Television dreams of tomorrow.  
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.  
For that's enough to argue."_

I barely heard the rapping on the door. Dancing over to it, I swung it open with a smile, the music still blasting in the background. One of the hotel staff stood at the door, a disapproving expression on his face. "Would you please turn that down please and be a bit respectful of other guests in the hotel, miss? You're getting plenty of complaints."

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Buzzkills," I murmured, but complied.

Well by the 4th day of my freedom, I didn't really have anything else to do. I already went on a little shopping spree, using the fake credit cards to buy a handful of new clothes. Good thing too, I could finally throw some of the bloody ones out. Oh and I got some new sunglasses! I was definitely in need of those. And after calling up Deacon and checking on my jailbird idiots, I was kinda out of things to do.

I beamed at the sudden idea that crossed my mind. I can't believe it didn't occur to me before! I pulled out my phone, flipping it up and quickly locating the number I was scanning for. I held the phone to my ear and waited patiently for her to answer.

"_Hello?_"

My smile widened at her voice. "Remember that drink I promised you back in December?"

I practically heard her grin from the other side of the line. "_I think that jogs my memory a little."_

Slinging my duffel bag over my shoulder, I continued, "Well, I'm bored in Crossett, Arkansas, and the Impala and I have about another three days to ourselves. I'd say we're in the mood for a little drive—the people in this hotel are stiffs anyway. You game?"

Jo chuckled, "_Where are the boys?_"

"Prison," I replied simply. After a pause, I added, "I can explain that later."

"_Do I get to pick the bar?_"

Smirking, I replied, "Baby, you can take me to an Applebee's in the middle of fuck know's where, as long as I get to see your pretty face."

"_Damn girl, you are on your game today."_

Holding back a giggle, I shrugged, stuffing the remains of my belongings into my bag in preparation to leave. "Figured why waste it," I jested lightly. I paused in my tracks, tapping my nails against the back of a chair, silently hoping she'd say yes. "So…? Dinner, drinks?"

After an extended, nerve-wracking pause, Jo prompted, "_I actually just finished a hunt in the next state over. I heard some pretty positive things about this bar slash night club here in New Orleans. I'll text you the address…meet me there tonight?"_

"I'd be honored," I assured brightly.

~o~

The place itself was _huge_. Not to mention it was bright with purple and pink luminescent lights blazing through the entire bar. It was crowded and loud with both modern music blaring through speakers and the chatter of voices overlapping each other. Which I guess was expected considering it was a Saturday night. I adjusted my black top and made my way through the crowd to the lighted bar and took a seat on one of the tall blue stools.

Observing and taking in the atmosphere, the club was actually incredibly nice and elegant in appearance. One of the bartenders in a crisp white dress shirt and black vest approached me with a polite demeanor, asking for my drink order. "Oh, I'm still waiting on someone," I told him kindly, struggling to make myself heard over the noise of the club.

"Not anymore she's not," Jo's voice boomed from beside me. I turned to grin at her as she hopped up onto a bar stool. I couldn't help but notice that the blue of her dress matched the color of the stool she sat on. "Apple Martini for me. Lu?"

"Strawberry Daiquiri," I requested, smiling prettily at the bartender.

"Can I see your IDs please?" he asked. Jo and I each handed him small plastic cards, which were returned back to us quickly with a small comment of gratitude. I grinned playfully at Jo, holding the card between my fingers.

"Fake IDs get you far in life," I joked. Jo snorted, glancing cautiously around us for lurking staff. Sniggering, I stuffed the card back into my small handbag.

"I'm surprised _you_ haven't landed in prison," Jo teased, leaning closer to me to hear more efficiently. "Now, why are Sam and Dean locked up again? It's been a month since we've seen each other, stranger, so you'll have to catch me up."

"Working a case," I replied, propping an elbow on the bar counter and resting my chin in my hand. Smirking I explained, "The case of a haunted prison. A _men's _prison which is why I'm not with them. Some ghost or something keeps murdering the inmates and guards in one of the cell blocks. According to our lead, all that's really happened is that Dean is fitting in perfectly, so…_there's_ a surprise."

Jo laughed at the sarcasm in my voice, and we temporarily withheld our conversation when the bartender returned with our drinks. I took a tiny sip of my fruity drink—holy c_rap_ that was good! No kidding why this place received good reviews. I watched as Jo set her drink on the table and flipped a long strand of golden hair from her shoulder. I felt a flutter in my stomach.

Snapping myself out of it, I questioned, "What about your hunt?"

"Werewolves," Jo replied with a hint of disgust. I raised my eyebrows in interest.

"Really? We worked a case with werewolves recently too," I commented. Jo made a sound of attention. I smiled sadly at the memory of the hunt—I still felt so _bad_ for Sammy… "Yeah, it was this girl Madison. She was really sweet actually. Um…Sam had a thing for her. He was pretty broken up about it. You know, he just…he looked so _happy _for the first time since Jessica. Did I ever tell you about Jess?"

Jo shook her head and waited for me to continue. "About a year and a half ago, she was his college girlfriend. Dean and I kinda snatched Sammy away for a few days because, well…this is when our Dad first went missing. We got him back home only to find that a demon killed her. The same demon that killed our Mom—and now our Dad."

"Oh my god," Jo replied, shocked. "That's awful, poor Sam." I nodded in agreement. Jo lifted her drink to her lips and took another sip. "This demon's really fucked up everything for you guys, hasn't it?"

I smiled sorrowfully at her. "You have no idea," I said, gazing at her sadly. I quickly shook it off. I stood and adjusted my patterned skirt and grabbed her hand. "Come on, we're supposed to be happy right now. You look beautiful, I feel great, and we should dance!" A large smile crossed her lips as she complied, slipping off her stool to follow me.

We pushed our way through the crowd, finding a spot of our own. The temperature of the room was warmer in the area because of the many bodies squashed together and surrounding. Though the music was loud and upbeat, Jo and I clung to each other as if dancing to a slow song, and swayed to every other beat. Our arms were looped around each others' waists and our bodies were pressed against each other. My chin rested on her shoulder and her steady breath tickled my ear.

My heartbeat was out of control. I swear I felt hers too. I had never been this close to her—and _god_, I never wanted to let go. I took in her scent and smiled against her shoulder—warm vanilla. I felt her pull away slightly, just enough to hold me face to face with her. Our foreheads were touching and her eyelashes brushed against my cheeks. Every part of my body was tingling. _Just a few millimeters._ And finally, I leaned in.

Her lips were warm and glided against mine smoothly. I moved my hands from her hips so that they wrapped around her waist, and she raised hers to my neck, pulling me impossibly closer. Our eyes were closed, blocking everyone and everything else out and focusing solely on the beauty and comfort of each other. The tingling in my body shifted to my face in every place that was open to her touch. Her breath was warm and tasted like vodka and apples—the apple martini. I loved the feeling she sparked inside of me. I wasn't dumb enough to say it was love—but maybe it could be eventually.

Just as the kiss began to turn more heated, a shrill wolf-whistle snapped us back to reality. Jo laughed sharply against my lips at the few amused (and slightly perverted) bystanders who had been observing us. I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped me as well. I pressed a small peck to her mouth and broke away from her. She dropped her hands from my neck and held me at arm's length.

"I could get used to that," I claimed. Jo laughed again, her head falling against my shoulder gleefully.

With a lack of anything better to do—not as if there was anything else I'd rather do—I spent a few nights with Jo, my_ girlfriend_, in that very city of New Orleans. No, not like _that_. I guess we could have if we wanted to. But really, I didn't think we were prepared for it. This was the first real relationship I'd had since I had just turned 18—I wanted it to be special. And on April 4th, the day I was supposed to pick up my brothers, I was forced to leave her again. Outside of her hotel room where the Impala was parked, we shared one last kiss, smiling as we twirled around each other happily. I shoved my duffel bag into the passenger's seat, and hopped into the driver's seat, roaring the engine to life.

I beamed at Jo as she wiggled her fingers at me in a parting wave. I exchanged one final glance with her before I pulled out of the parking lot and zipped off onto the road back to Arkansas. Well…that was one hell of a week. Now, I wasn't going to go and say that Jo and I were perfect together or that we'd last forever and ever…but in the moment, right now, it felt right.

It felt so goddamn right.

~o~

I leaned against the Impala, holding back a laugh as I watched my older brothers climb up the white stairs out of the prison. My new sunglasses were placed over my eyes—obviously as a joke on my part considering it was nighttime. Lemme tell ya—it was _so _difficult not to let a chuckle slip at the sight of my brothers in bright orange jumpsuits.

"Look at you, stud!" Dean called with a grin on his face. I saluted with a peace sign. When he approached completely, he ordered, "Now get out of the way of the driver's seat, I missed my baby."

I didn't budge. "Fuck no, I'm your getaway driver, convict," I shot back lightly, giving him a gentle kick in the butt towards the passenger's seat. He grumbled away unwillingly. On the other side of the Impala, Sam snorted.

"What kind of jackass wears sunglasses at night?" he scoffed, starting to pull off the navy blue prison jacket he and Dean were sporting. I yanked the glasses off, shooting him a superior look.

"Someone's jealous," I sang.

"Hah!" he laughed mockingly.

Observing as they pulled on their normal everyday jackets, I shook my head and amusedly exclaimed, "Looking good in the prison jumpsuits, boys! I always figured you'd get arrested one way or another, Dee." Dean rolled his eyes at me but I ignored him and looked towards Sam. "Not you, Sam….you're a good noodle." Sam copied Dean's movements, but smiled at me slightly.

"Can we go now?" Sam suggested. "We're not exactly out of the woods yet." Just as the three of us began to slide into our seats in the car, the prison alarm sounded throughout the area. We exchanged an urgent look and immediately hopped into the car. I revved the engine and stepped on the gas, tearing out of the area as fast as possible.

Dean and Sam explained their findings of the job to me—apparently they still hadn't fully ended it. Dean gave me directions to a local graveyard where some violent, murderous nurse was buried and I sped down the roads as rapidly as I could, no questions asked.

"So," Dean started when we had almost reached our destination, "how badly did you miss us? Come on, you can tell us, don't be embarrassed."

"I was counting down the moments," I mumbled sarcastically, biting back a smile.

"Hey!" Sam protested lightheartedly.

"Kidding!" I jested. Quietly, I muttered, "Kinda…" At their glares, I chuckled and reasoned, "Come on! You know I love you guys. It was just kinda nice to have some time to myself. You know, I went _shopping_—"

"Yeah, we saw the Sharpay sunglasses," Sam commented, crossing his arms.

"Hey, they're cute!" I retorted. Then I paused and glanced back at my brother questionably. "You watched High School Musical?"

Sam struggled to find the right words as Dean and I stared at him from the front seat judgmentally. "I—it was once!" he cried as I burst out into laughter and Dean shook his head in disbelief. "_Once!_"

"Whatever, dork," I interrupted, cutting off my laughter. "Anyway," I restarted loudly, resuming my previous explanation, "I went shopping, blasted some music. Me and the Impala got some bonding time (Dean grumbled bitterly at this). I spent some time in New Orleans…" I trailed off, biting my lip happily. "…With my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Sam picked up immediately. He grinned widely and asked, "You and Jo?" My only response was a giddy smile as I pulled into the cemetery.

"So Sammy and I are in the slammer and you get laid…that's fair," Dean teased with a smirk growing on his face. I punched him in the shoulder. "Ow!" he cried, rubbing the spot where my fist hit.

"Shut up!" I complained, maintaining a playful smile. "We didn't even…_shut up_! You're worse than the pervs that wolf-whistled us. _Come on_, we're here!"

My brothers and I were quick to wrap up the prison job. Under the belief that the big bad cops were on the way towards them, Dean and Sam located the grave of the nurse fluidly. Her remains were salted and burned painlessly and without a single interruption. And just as easily as we finished up this case, we moved on down the road to wherever our next one would take us. As content as I was in the moment, there was a tinge of unease. And somewhere in the back of my mind, an all too familiar voice was saying,

"_Dangerous stuff is upcoming, Lucy, and you have to be ready. I'll be with you the whole time…I promise."_

**~o~**

**So yeah, it's really short, but omg I'm so happy. How'd I do on the romance thing? It's pretty much my first time really writing romantic stuff so…I hope I did well :)**

**Some notes I wanted to add for this chapter and beyond:  
1) Even though, yes, Lucy will be in two particular pairings which I've identified, keep in mind that the romance isn't the main focus of this story. The point of it is Lucy's journey—however the second pairing does somewhat play into her journey…I'm not gonna give anything away. So it's not gonna be all romance and love all the time. It's mostly gonna follow her and Dean and Sam.**

**2) I kinda added in the High School Musical/Sharpay Evans reference for fun because I picture Ashley Tisdale as Lucy. This is gonna be fun when I write out "The French Mistake"… :)**

**3) My 18****th**** birthday is actually in two days (the 19****th****) so it'd be really awesome if I got some nice reviews as a birthday present. Pretty please ^.^**


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